


Morning Follows Night

by MikeWritesThings



Series: i'll follow you [1]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Developing Relationship, Domestic, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Lack of Communication, M/M, Meet the Family, Minor Loba Andrade/Bangalore | Anita Williams, Relationship Issues, Trans Octane | Octavio Silva, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:14:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 73,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27566575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MikeWritesThings/pseuds/MikeWritesThings
Summary: Octavio Silva is a daredevil who's never had to learn how to take responsibility—and his only goals are living fast and going out in a blaze of glory.Taejoon Park is on the run, and looking over his shoulder has become second nature to him. Attachment to someone is dangerous, he knows, but he's tired of feeling alone.Their relationship is currently in a precarious stage, new and testing boundaries...and something is about to make all of that a lot more fucking complicated.
Relationships: Crypto | Park Tae Joon & Wattson | Natalie Paquette, Crypto | Park Tae Joon/Octane | Octavio Silva, Rampart | Ramya Parekh/Wattson | Natalie Paquette
Series: i'll follow you [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2083647
Comments: 54
Kudos: 112





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> if u saw me accidentally publish this when only "gggggggggg" was in the text box no u didnt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IF YOU CALL THIS MPREG I WILL STOMP YOU TO DEATH WITH MY HOOVES.
> 
> normalize trans men who make the choice to have a baby or otherwise keep a baby. normalize men having kids. don't call them freaks of nature. don't fetishize men who are pregnant/male pregnancy. don't alienate men or transmasc individuals who want kids. its perfectly normal. its their choice.
> 
> :)
> 
> anyways apex is set like 400 years in the future. hopefully by this point men who have kids are normalized, so there isn't gonna be any dramatics about it. maybe some minor dysphoria, but thats just for personal gender related reasons and not "WHATTTT MEN CANT HAVE KIDS WTFFFFF" 
> 
> anyways i chose to go this specific route for a cryptane with kids fic for 2 reasons: one, i had already planned this type of fic for a friend but i wasn't 100% sure how i'd go about it and we'd discussed this before...[which leads to the second deciding factor: that vaguely transphobic cis octane fic where hes pregnant. bro i could do so much better than that watch this *cracks knuckles*]
> 
> **[im not deleting this part because i want it to be addressed and to give context : the author of that fic reached out to me to let me know that transphobia was never their intention. they've been very gracious abt the whole thing and understand that some parts of that fic have come across as transphobic. i've already made suggestions for edits and they've ended up changing (as of 11/18 ) the fic to trans octane. please don't attack this person. :] ]]

“Y’know,” Octavio said, gesturing towards Crypto with his half-drunk beer bottle. “If you were actually into me, amigo, you’d tell me your real name.”

Crypto didn’t even look up at him, still typing out something on his phone without pause. His expression remained neutral, and he gave no indication that he’d even heard Octavio speak. He _hated_ whenever the guy did that. Ignoring him. Acting like they didn’t fuck three times a week.

Of course, that was all they did, which might be why Crypto didn’t seem keen on revealing any personal information to Octavio, despite this arrangement having been a thing for roughly six months. But Octavio had thought that they were starting to get _somewhere_ , lay down the groundwork for something more. The last time he’d come over they’d given each other messy handjobs and then spent the rest of the evening playing an intense game of Uno. That was borderline romantic for Octavio, who was allergic to stuff like _dinner dates._

He had thought that there was something between them. That the hacker was finally starting to crumble before him; drop the cool guy act and act like a normal fucking person, not someone on the run from the government or whatever. He'd thought that the last time he came over they had been close to a _breakthrough._

Crypto didn’t seem to share this sentiment, though, because he continued ignoring Octavio as he stood there for an answer. He waited for something, _any_ small movement or spoken word, but nothing happened. He swore that he could feel the thumping vibrations of the Mirage Voyage with his legs—they were aboard for some special Christmas party Elliott had wanted to throw, celebrating the fact that he’d gotten the damned ship back. He could be doing literally anything else other than this.

 _This_ was fucking boring.

He opened his mouth to pester the other again when the door suddenly flew open and Ramya stumbled into the room, smelling strongly of about ten types of alcohol.

“This—” She held her hands out, eyes squinting as she looked at the both of them; Crypto had finally glanced up from his phone, looking bemused. She turned her head jerkily to the hot-tub bubbling beside them, the glowing lights inside giving the room a strange ambiance.

“This ain’t the loo,” Ramya said bluntly.

“It’s downstairs,” Crypto said quietly, and she nodded before stumbling towards the hot-tub. She dropped to her knees and dunked her head into the hot water, and Octavio grinned as he reached for his phone, wanting to record her. He was too late, however—she straightened up quickly after, hair sticking to her face as she announced,

“ _That_ was the wake-up call I needed. Got another round in me, Oct, if you wanna—”

“Hells yeah,” Octavio said, starting forward to join her and abandon Mr. Boring over here, but Crypto’s hand was suddenly circling his wrist and he was stopped in his tracks. He threw a glance over his shoulder, saw that Crypto was staring down at his phone again, but he didn’t let go of him. After a moment, Octavio turned back to address Ramya.

“I’ll join ya in a sec, okay?”

“Fuckin’ coward,” she drawled, stumbling back out the door. “I know you’re avoidin' me.”

It slammed shut behind her. She was hilarious when drunk. 

Octavio shifted on his feet as he turned to look at Crypto, hoping that the other could tell how impatient he was to join her. The other had told him that he wanted to speak to him, but all he'd done so far was not pay attention to him. Octavio could've been drunk off his ass at this point.

“You’ve got thirty seconds to say what the deal is before I run, got it?”

Crypto kept typing, brows furrowed, as Octavio tried to tug himself out of his grip without success. Man, this fucker was so strong and for _what_? He gave up after a few tries and placed his hand on his hip, tapping his foot impatiently while he waited for Crypto to finish his text, or whatever—before the other man was slipping his phone into his pocket and pulling Octavio closer to him.

He found himself almost nose-to-nose with Crypto as the taller man placed his free hand on his waist, his other hand still loosely gripping Octavio’s arm. They stared at each other for a couple of seconds, before Octavio burst out,

“Que?”

“Stay with me,” Crypto murmured, mouth barely moving, as if he didn’t want to get caught even speaking to him. "I need to tell you something."

Oh, _this_ is what he was talking about. Heart picking up in his chest, Octavio asked, "Tell me what?"

The hand on his waist went lower, lower, until—

“I’ve disabled all of the security cameras," Crypto said, and it took Octavio a moment to register those words, what with the hand on his ass and all—then it hit him, and with a grin he hit the other on his bicep and laughed,

“No fuckin’ way. Here? You wanna do something _here_? Ooh, risky. I dig it.”

He was still grinning as he slid his hand down Crypto’s side before finding his belt—easier to locate without the bulk of that ugly jacket in the way, and he tugged. “Is this your Christmas spirit, cariño?”

“We have an hour,” Crypto said, still impassive, but Octavio didn’t care. This boring-ass party was about to get a hell of a lot better. He glanced around, searching for anything particularly interesting, before his eyes settled on the two decoys chilling in the water beside them.

“Ever had hot-tub sex?” Octavio asked, and he swore that the corner of Crypto’s mouth twitched.

Forty-seven minutes later (he knows this because the other man had set up a timer on his phone like some kind of fucking _square_ ) Octavio leaned onto his elbows to see if anyone was missing him. No text messages or anything, and Ramya hadn’t ever barged back in, so he assumed that she had passed out. Probably got taken home by Che since he didn’t have anything from her either, and normally she would be blowing up his phone by this point. 

_Not hearing from Silva ain’t a good sign_ , she would say. Which was true, considering he’d just fucked Crypto in a hot-tub.

He looked back at the other man, who had his arms crossed over his chest and eyes closed. Tired, maybe, but he didn’t know from what. All the guy did was stare at a computer all day.

Had they been dating, he would have nestled up against him. Must feel nice, cuddling someone in a hot-tub, feeling their heat in tandem with the water. Not that he cared for that sort of stuff or anything. He just wanted to know what it’d feel like. Relaxing, maybe.

On second thought, that sounded _horrible_. Relaxation, ugh.

Octavio clambered out of the hot-tub, reaching for his discarded shorts as he did so. Heh. He kind of felt bad for the poor bastard who’d have to clean up after them, but it had been worth it. He pulled his shorts on and was just reaching for his shirt when Crypto asked,

“What makes you think my name is fake?”

Octavio paused in his movements, processing the question, before tugging his shirt over his head. It clung to his wet skin, which wasn’t very pleasant, but he’d felt way worse in the Ring.

“Uh, ‘cuz you’re shady?” Octavio said through half a laugh. It was kind of a ridiculous question to ask. Was he _supposed_ to believe this guy’s name was really Hyeon? The guy who had fake fingerprints?! _That_ guy? No way. That's why he was interested in the first place—he was an adventure.

He looked back at Crypto, whose face was shadowed due to the lighting of the room. It was very dark in here, with only multi-colored bulbs shining from the hot-tub illuminating the area, casting a strange, almost otherworldly light on everything. The other man finally opened his eyes, and seemed to glare right at Octavio, who shivered a little under his gaze.

They weren’t supposed to be anything more than fuckbuddies. Fuckbuddies borne out of a heated moment in battle, frustration as Crypto pinned Octavio to the wall and told him to _stop fucking moving, quit making so much noise, just sit still,_ and Octavio had replied _make me_. He didn’t remember much from that moment—just cool air suddenly brushing against his cheeks before lips were pressed against his own, hard. It had gotten him to shut up, at least.

He was sure that Crypto regretted that moment. Remembered the guy avoiding him for a week. Remembered an apology at his front door that led to them making out on his couch five minutes later. They weren’t actually friends, Octavio was sure. He and Ajay were friends. Crypto and Natalie were friends. The two of them weren’t...

Well. They _hadn’t_ been.

Octavio initially hadn’t been interested in pursuing anything beyond sex, but Crypto had been on his mind too much recently. He wanted to know more about the other, unravel all his secrets to see his nasty core, because he wasn’t _sure_ what Crypto had done but he had a bet with Ramya that it was _probably_ something like assassinating a government official.

He’d poked and prodded at him, searching for an answer, and got everything but what he wanted. Learned Crypto’s bad habits, like the fact that he drank orange juice directly from the carton, or that he puts things in his pockets and then can’t find them for days on end because he forgot. Learned that Crypto liked melodramas and read romance novels like some sort of freak, and had a cat named Cat, because he fucking sucked at naming things.

He learned a lot about Crypto these past few weeks, but none of it was the _good stuff_. None of it helped him figure out why the other man was like _that_ —so sweet with him one moment and then kicking him out of his apartment the next. 

He wanted to peel back all of the hacker’s layers and see the truth. Maybe because he was nosy. Maybe because he was insatiable.

 _Or maybe,_ a tiny, annoying voice said inside of him, _you’re catching feelings._

Which was definitely not true. Fuck you, stupid tiny voice.

_(Crypto gently pulled his hand away from where he'd reached out to snag something off his bookshelf. It looked like a normal comicbook at first glance, but Octavio had noticed what looked like a piece of paper sticking out the top. He'd been caught red-handed trying to get to it, though, after being told so many times not to touch anything._

_He looked up at Crypto with wide eyes, prepared to be yelled at, or for the other man to throw him out. Instead, with a strange sort of softness to his eyes, Crypto asked,_

_"Do you want dinner?"_

_Something funny happened in his chest at this offer. It was a warm feeling, almost. The other man usually just made him leave by this point, so this was new._

_"Yeah," Octavio said, voice quiet, before he shook the warm feeling off and repeated loudly, "Yeah."_

_Crypto let go of his hand, and he almost missed the contact. "Hope you like Thai because I'm not ordering anything else.")_

He thought of this moment again as he made eye contact with Crypto, only to quickly avert his gaze under the pretense of checking his phone again. He heard movement through water as Crypto climbed out of the hot-tub, and was just getting to his feet when the man finally said,

“I think it’s best if you never found out.”

Octavio stared at him, a million things weighing on the tip of his tongue—first and foremost, _so you_ admit _it’s a fake name?!_ But the thing holding those words back was...caution. An almost foreign feeling to him, and he didn't even know why he felt it in the first place.

Finally, he asked, “Why?”

“I don’t trust you,” Crypto said shortly, buckling his belt. It was such an abrupt change in mood that Octavio felt like he was floundering. “We’re not friends. Quit poking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

He was pulling his shirt on now, Octavio confused as he scrambled to understand what was going on.

"I thought—hold on, I thought you wanted to talk to me?" He asked, and Crypto sighed, not looking at him.

"That was it," he said, and with that he opened the door that led out to the deck and then slammed it shut behind him. 

Octavio stared at the place the other man had once stood, fingers tapping against his phone as he tried to process _what_ , exactly, had just happened. Was he being dumped? Well, they weren’t even dating, but was Crypto _dumping_ him? Cutting him off? The hell was _that_ for? Did he really just have sex with him only to tell him to fuck off right after?

“Asshole,” he muttered to himself as he finally finished getting dressed, putting on his coat. He shivered a little in the cold air due to his wet hair sticking to his forehead, but he almost didn't care. He was starting to feel anger. “Shouldn’t have let him do it raw.”

Oh, this was infuriating. _Annoying_. Wasn’t it _his_ job to be obnoxious and do bad things like that? Shouldn’t _Octavio_ be the one who fucked a guy and then dumped him all within the span of an hour?

Whatever.

It wasn’t like he cared, anyways.

They weren't even dating.

* * *

Taejoon had made a mistake.

He'd gotten close to someone. He'd risked his own safety, and more importantly, he'd risked theirs.

He could already hear Mystik berating him for it as he woke up the morning after, feeling a little feverish, which was probably karma for what he’d done last night. He tried to ignore the heavy feeling of guilt in his gut as he worked on his computer until the early afternoon, but every time he thought he was getting over it Octavio’s face would resurface in his mind and he would make another mistake.

 _Octavio_ had been a mistake. He should’ve never gotten intimate with him, not even once, because Taejoon wasn’t _good_ at casual. Never had been. He got attached too easily, and the other man was no exception. Even if he _was_ loud and reckless and opinionated and irksome and funny and cute and...

He ran his hand through his hair with a sigh, eyes slipping closed.

 _You’re thirty-one, Park_ , Mystik’s voice told him. _Get a fucking grip._

She was right. Or, well, _he_ was right, since it was his own thoughts, just in her voice...or whatever...he shouldn’t have drank so much last night...

God, he was tired.

Much of the weekend passed with him trying to ignore Octavio’s existence. He received about a dozen text messages from him that he didn’t bother looking at, knowing he would be tempted to respond. He felt as if he’d been leading the other man on for months, letting him get too close when he should’ve been shoving him away. So he'd made his choice last night, and that choice was to cut Octavio off.

Taejoon was on the run. His life was constantly in danger, one step away from being found out and killed—he couldn’t risk his security for a boy. He’d be putting the both of them at risk; himself for revealing his identity and Octavio just for associating with him. He... _cared_ about Octavio, unfortunately, and he'd fucking hate himself if he let the other be caught in the crosshairs of this mess between him and the Syndicate.

He’d made the right choice, he told himself as guilt gnawed at him from within. He’d let this thing go on for too long. Perhaps after it had all cooled down he could build a relationship with him like he’d done with Natalie, friendly but kept at a safe distance...

( _You can't,_ the logical part of himself stated firmly. _You like him too much._ )

On Monday he tried to avoid him because he was pretty sure that Octavio was pissed. This was proven true after Taejoon had spent the whole match looking over his shoulder, feeling as if someone was watching him, only to get pinned down in the Estates by a small man with a very big grudge. 

“Buenos dias, pretty boy,” Octavio said venomously from behind his mask, and then he stomped Taejoon’s face in. Though the damage had been undone when he was respawned later by Bloodhound, he swore that his nose was still stinging, aching from being broken.

Similar things happened on Tuesday and Wednesday; Octavio seemed to be seeking him out specifically, and though he managed to kill Taejoon a second time with his butterfly knife, his third attempt was foiled by Anita punching him off the building they were stationed on. Octavio ended up falling off the map which had been kind of funny, but he still felt responsible for it. This wasn't a situation that he could easily blame on _them._ This had been his own doing.

Octavio’s anger seemed to follow him even outside of the Games. Their rooms were still next to each other on the dropship, and Taejoon swore that the other man must be stealing his things, because he’d come back several times only to find that his stuff was missing. He didn’t want to stick around in it for too long, hyper-aware of Octavio’s gaze burning into the back of his neck, so he chose to spend the majority of his time with Natalie, which soon resulted in this conversation:

“Hyeon.”

He looked up at her, pausing in his tinkering with his drone, and she gave him a curious once-over with her blue eyes. She'd been very gracious to him these past few weeks, probably because she felt guilty for what she'd done, even though it hadn't been her fault.

“Something is bothering you,” she told him matter-of-factly. Had she been anyone else, he would have outright lied or shrugged her off, but he was trying to stay on her good side after everything that had happened between the two of them and Nox. So with a low sigh, he mumbled,

“Yes, but you can’t help.”

“We’ll see about that!” Natalie said confidently, and sat down beside him, crossing her legs. “Is it drone trouble?”

“No.”

“Money trouble?”

"No."

Her eyes widened. “Boy trouble?”

Taejoon looked up from his drone but didn’t say anything. That was apparently all the confirmation she needed, because she clasped her hands together and whispered, “What happened?”

“...Nothing,” he said, and when her eyes narrowed slightly he back-tracked. “It’s just...”

Natalie was the only person who knew about them. Well, she knew that they were seeing each other, sort of, and didn’t know any of the...finer details. Which was fine by him. But it had apparently led her to believe that he and Octavio’s relationship ran deeper than _‘friends with benefits’,_ dubious on the ‘ _friends_ ’ part.

“I...broke up with him,” he finally said, which was technically true. Natalie looked over her shoulder to make sure that they were alone before saying quietly,

“Ah, well that explains why I saw him pouring superglue into your shoes...”

Taejoon blinked. “He what.”

“Why did you two break up?” Natalie asked curiously, and he sighed, not sure where to begin. If he even _should_.

He was trying to be honest with her, but it was a bit hard to do so when he had a fake... _everything_. Fake name, fake appearance, fake background. Hell, he hadn’t even been entirely truthful about he and Octavio’s relationship—but to be fair to him, you wouldn’t go around announcing that you and your co-worker were fuckbuddies even if you _weren’t_ on the run from the Syndicate.

“You like him, don’t you?” She continued, now placing her hands over his, and he really regretted telling her this at all, because she thought that the two of them were cute. “But why—”

“Because I’m afraid,” he finally snapped, and immediately bowed his head when she flinched. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...look, Natalie, we’re not...we can’t...”

Words. Why did words always fail him? He’d dug himself a hole. He couldn’t even begin to explain this situation without hinting that he wasn’t all that he seemed, that there was something lurking beneath the surface of Hyeon Kim, the fake persona he’d fed to everyone else. This was all _his_ fault. _His_ downfall.

She waited patiently for him to speak, which was both her best and worst attribute. He could sit here for hours avoiding the question and she’d still wait for him. He gently tugged himself away from her grip, turning away from her slightly. He felt exposed, even if it was just the two of them alone in the workshop—normally a safe space for him, but currently his skin was crawling with discomfort.

“I can’t explain it,” he mumbled, trying not to meet her gaze lest he see the hurt there. “But it’s just best that we’re not seeing each other.”

“But you like him,” she said. “I don’t understand.”

Because she didn’t have the full picture. Because she didn’t know the weight of his actions, the cost of knowing him, being _around_ him.

Why was he even friends with her? Why was he risking her safety? Why was he risking _everyone’s_ safety, being so close to them, living with them, working against the Syndicate right under their noses...

His fingers had curled into his arms, nails digging harshly into his skin as he tried to fight back the nauseating paranoia that had become second nature to him. He was here because he had to be, because it was the only way to get his identity back. Because he had to know what happened to Mila. Because he wanted to shout his name to the world—tell everyone that _I am Taejoon Park, and you’re going to have to try a lot harder than that to get rid of me._

Natalie sighed from beside him, mumbling something that sounded a lot like _‘boys’,_ before getting to her feet and placing her hand gently on his shoulder.

“I would at least talk to him, mon ami. I was...much like you when Ramya approached me. She is quite a handful, no? But we make it work, I think. It just takes a little effort to get it going. The right conductor.”

He glared at her as she smiled at her own joke, before leaving him to be. He sighed, letting his head fall back against the wall as he considered her words. He understood what she was saying. Even if he still stood by his decision to cut Octavio off, he could at least try explaining his reasoning...or as much as he could without giving anything major away, anyways.

He deserved that after these past few weeks of gentle touches and the thought of something _more_ bubbling beneath the surface. That want for human contact.

On Friday he cornered Octavio in the maintenance hall near Hammond Labs. They were on the same team for the first time this week, which hadn’t put a stop to Octavio terrorizing him. In fact, it only encouraged him—he was pretty sure that the man was flicking all of the pins of his grenades into his face on purpose.

He had also once gone into drone mode only to be shoved unceremoniously off his perch, and slid down about fifty feet before crashing into one of the Grow Towers. His shoulder still hurt from that incident, but Octavio seemed unapologetic.

Mirage was dead, which, good riddance, he’d rather not talk about this around him. Around any squadmate, really, but _especially_ him.

Taejoon had grabbed Octavio's arm and dragged him, kicking and yelling, into the maintenance hall before shoving him against the wall and telling him quietly,

“We need to talk.”

Of course, he wasn’t going to divulge any important details here. He wasn’t an idiot. But he had to make sure that Octavio was going to stick around after the game today. 

“Why?” Octavio demanded from behind his mask, stim needle in hand—he’d been a second away from jamming it into his thigh in order to run away from him, but his grip was loose enough for Taejoon to knock it from his hand. It clattered to the ground. “Oh, fuck you.”

“We need to talk about us,” Taejoon mumbled, and Octavio tried kneeing him between his legs.

“What _‘us’?_ There is no _‘us’,_ compadre, because in case you forgot you _ditched me_ last Saturday after fucking me in a hot-tub. Who _does_ that?”

Okay, yes, that had been a bad move on his part—but in his defense, he had originally begun the night with the intention of telling Octavio _everything_. It had been the alcohol speaking, he was sure, but he'd been dead-set on revealing his identity because he was so fucking _lonely,_ damn it. He just wanted to be able to lie next to someone and not worry about it all come crashing down. He wanted to be able to kiss someone and not feel like he was poisoning them and ruining their life.

Halfway through the hour he’d came to his senses and realized that he couldn’t tell Octavio the truth. It was better for the both of them to part ways that day as...

Well. Not friends. But not lovers, either.

It was for Octavio's sake.

“I will explain,” Taejoon hissed as Octavio struggled against him, and those words seemed to do the trick; he suddenly stopped, long enough to ask,

“Explain...what?”

“Why.”

“Why what?”

“Why we can’t be together, Octavio. Not—” He bit on his lip, letting his emotions bubble beneath the surface. They were so close. The last time they'd been like this he'd been kissing the other man, letting his fingers rub gentle circles into his sides and feeling him sigh into his mouth. It had been good.

“Not the way I want to."

He hadn’t really intended to let that part slip out, but it was too late. Octavio stood stock-still now, which was out of character for him. It was almost frightening.

Then, the other man said,

“You’re full of shit.”

Before Taejoon could say anything else, protest or convince him that he meant it, the doors to the maintenance hall were opening with a clang. He looked over his shoulder just in time to be faced with the barrel of someone’s R-99, and their squad was dead within seconds.

When he next opened his eyes he came face-to-face with Octavio, maskless. The younger man was attractive, something he’d thought ever since he'd first laid eyes on him. Even when he’d hated the other for being obnoxious, there was still some part of him that could appreciate the line of his abs, the slope of his nose, and his pretty narrow eyes...

Ah. He should really try to stop thinking like that.

“You have five minutes,” Octavio told him curtly. “I’ve got stuff to do, so hurry up.”

Taejoon sat up and the other man backed away from him, giving him room to breathe. He winced as he felt his neck crack, looking down at the nodes attaching him to machines he didn’t know the names of. He ripped them off before turning so that his legs hung over the medical table, leaning so that his forearms were resting against his knees. His head spun, but he knew that he needed to tell Octavio the truth.

Or a portion of it, at least.

He reached for Hack, pressed a button on its side that would interfere with the A/V in here for a bit, before speaking. He gave Octavio a short, condensed version of: _We can’t be together because I’m afraid that you’ll get hurt in the process, there are people after me, you didn’t sign up for this, it was irresponsible for me to lead you on and let you get close to me..._

By the time he’d finished, Octavio was pacing back and forth, and when his words trailed off he stopped and asked,

“That’s it?”

Taejoon nodded, and Octavio threw his hands up in the air.

“Uh, I fucking knew all of that, idiota!"

Taejoon blinked, but before he could even think of speaking Octavio continued,

" _Everyone_ knows that! Did you think I would be so interested in you if you were, like, _boring_? No way, José. You're so _stupid._ "

Taejoon’s jaw slackened a little bit as he took these words in. He was a bit dumbfounded, and didn’t really know where to _begin_ addressing that all of that. Maybe he should start with the fact that Octavio was missing the point.

“I...”

“Kim—if that’s even your real name which a hundred bucks says it’s _not_ —I went into this knowing that you’re super shady and have probably killed someone before,” Octavio said, placing a hand on his hip and kicking Taejoon’s shin with his metal foot, which hurt a lot, actually. “That was the _exciting_ part, amigo. I already knew this."

“But that doesn’t change the fact that it’s _dangerous_ ,” Taejoon finally managed to say round the blockade in his throat, and Octavio crouched in front of him now so that he was forced to meet his eyes—a pretty hazel color.

“Dude, it was dangerous from the get-go. Like, I’m pretty sure I got put on a hitlist the moment I saw your dick.” Octavio grabbed his hand, pressing his fingers to Taejoon’s pulse—for what reason, he didn’t know, but he seemed satisfied with his findings. “It’s not any more dangerous for me now than it was back then.”

Taejoon pulled his wrist from his grip, trying to think of a retort. He was technically correct, but the fact of the matter was that Taejoon was going to put a stop to it. He liked Octavio too much to put him at risk. Even if he wanted the other as badly as he did. 

"Octavio," he said quietly, but didn't continue. The other straightened up a little so that his face was closer to Taejoon’s, and something in his voice changed. Quieter, almost, which should be impossible for him—but the change in volume was definitely there, as was the change in tone. 

“I want you,” Octavio said, and Taejoon felt his breath hitch in his chest at these words. "You’re hot, y’know? And you act like you’ve got a big stick up your ass, but you’re funny, and—”

"-and _running,_ " Taejoon said through grit teeth, because he couldn't allow this to happen, couldn't let himself give in to his wants and rope the other into his mess. He had to put his foot down. He had to...

Octavio placed his fingers on his jaw, and Taejoon found himself looking at his eyes again, unable to tear his gaze away.

( _"Do you like my eyes?" Octavio asked. Taejoon paused what he was doing, fingers coming to a halt on Octavio's thigh as he pondered this question. He didn't quite understand, so he asked,_

_"What?"_

_"You always stare at me. Into my eyes." He batted his eyelashes and grinned up at him, which he rolled his eyes at. "Are they pretty, Hacker-man?"_

Yes _, was the honest answer. Octavio had very pretty eyes. Intense hazel that were often colored with mischief and want; want for something exciting, want for a rush, and sometimes even a want for Taejoon. He could stare at his eyes all day, entranced._

_"You're imagining things," Taejoon said instead, and slipped his fingers inside the other, causing him to gasp before he could ask any more questions.)_

Octavio stared at him for a while, as if waiting for him to blink—and when he finally did a grin tugged at his lips, and he said quietly,

“If it’s any comfort, I think that whoever’s after you would be afraid to touch the heir of Silva Pharmaceuticals. Especially on Olympus."

Octavio kissed him, then, and he allowed it. Let his hands grip his waist, then move down to his hips, wanting to pull him into his lap—even if alarm bells were going off in his head. Even if he knew that he _shouldn’t,_ that he should be shoving Octavio off of him because he _can't_ do this. He wanted Octavio, he _did,_ but more important was Octavio's safety, and he didn't want to lie to him any longer, and...

“We could make this work,” Octavio said against his lips, frantic, hand tugging his hair, and Taejoon found himself giving in. Letting the scent of the other overtake him as he looked at those hazel eyes again, and felt something in him break.

“Yeah,” he agreed, breathing heavy, and Octavio smiled wide. “We could.”

* * *

The next few weeks were...

Fun.

More fun than Octavio had ever thought being chained to someone could be. Well, it wasn’t like they were even _officially_ dating, but it sure as hell felt like it. It was...nice. To spend time with someone. To have someone willing to pay attention to him and listen to his tangents and ramblings about his own stunts.

He hated to admit that he sometimes got lonely, but having his boyfriend-whatever-thing smile at him as he went on about weird rabbit facts made him feel warm inside.

(Gag.)

All in all, not much actually changed. They still had a lot of sex, Crypto was still really mysterious, and he was still very much allergic to dinner dates. But now they could spend the night together without actually _doing_ anything, and that was kind of _weird_. 

Like how midway through January he brought over about ten slasher films, dumped them into Crypto’s lap, and said,

“Choose.”

And then they'd watched three. No ultimatum of sex right after, no making out and touching. Just...spending time together. Being _still._ And he didn't even hate it. God, there was something wrong with him.

On Valentine’s day he’d spent hours curled up in bed, exhausted and in pain, probably from the game yesterday, and Taejoon bought him a fuck ton of chocolate. He'd claimed that it was just for the holiday, but like, he also spent a good part of the day running his fingers through Octavio’s hair and across his skin. That had felt really good. He liked being touched like this, and even better, he liked that someone was concerned for him.

Towards the middle of February the season came to a close, but he almost didn’t notice. At any other time he would be antsy and impatient for the new one, but he actually _enjoyed_ the break between seasons. That wasn’t to say he didn’t do anything wild to satiate his boredom—his forearm was covered in blisters and burns, currently—but life moved a lot less slowly when spending time with Crypto.

Well, scratch that, it was still _slow_ , but it was a lot more bearable. He had someone to wait it out with.

He liked it a lot. More than he ever thought he would, and that kind of freaked him the fuck out. _Relationships_ weren't something he was good at, and he was just waiting for the moment that it would all come crashing down.

And then it did.

For the past couple of days he’d had some sort of stomach bug. Constantly throwing up, getting nauseous when moving, feeling hot and feverish in the mornings and then freezing cold at night. _Bleh._

At Ajay’s insistence he’d booked a doctor’s appointment for the weekend right before the new season start, because when he got sick, he _got sick._ Crypto was currently bothering him about it, which was definitely the worst part about having a boyfriend that wasn't actually your boyfriend.

"It's in an hour," Crypto was saying, doing something nerdy on his laptop.

“I don’t wanna go,” Octavio whined, staring fixated at the TV. He was so, _so_ fucking _close_ to beating this level on his first try because hell yeah, _speedrun baby_ —

“I refuse to kiss you if there’s a possibility that you’re sick,” Crypto said bluntly, nudging his foot with his own, and Octavio finally threw his controller down with a groan. _Whatever_.

He stole Crypto’s Metro card, because hey, if he was going to make him go, he might as well pay for the trip. Which was another reason he hadn't wanted to go, because he hated taking the train—and today the smell was more awful than usual, as if to spite him.

At the doctor’s office they took his temperature, made him take off his legs to look for signs of an infection on his scars, and then took some bloodwork from him. You would think that Octavio, of all people, would not be queasy about bloodwork, but life was full of surprises. He only liked needles on his own terms, okay?

Next came the worst part: waiting.

He paced back and forth in the tiny room they'd secluded him in, wondering how much longer he'd have to wait for this shit to get over with. He had a date with a very hot Korean man tonight, after all, a date which would hopefully involve a three-cheese pizza and some beer. He really wanted pizza today. He deserved it after being made to go to the doctor's.

Octavio was just considering calling up Che to bitch at her when the doctor came back, and he asked immediately,

"Can I go home now?"

"Now wait just a second, Mr. Silva," his doctor said graciously. He forgot the guy's name. Valencia, perhaps? "I have some news for you."

"If it's about quitting stim again then I don't wanna hear it."

He swore that they went through this every doctor visit, which was why he hated them so damn much. Stim helped take the itch of boredom away, and he didn't _care_ about the long-term effects. What mattered was the _now._

Dr. Valencia looked down at his clipboard with a furrowed brow, as if debating on how he wanted to approach this situation. Octavio crossed his arms, glaring, as his stomach churned with yet another bout of nausea. He just wanted to take whatever medicine they were about to prescribe him and go, but this guy was taking forever to get to the _fucking point._

Finally, Dr. Valencia said,

"I'm afraid you'll have to."

"Why?" He snapped, impatient, because he'd heard _that_ before—and Dr. Valencia sighed before handing his clipboard over to Octavio.

"Because you're pregnant."

Octavio stared, wide-eyed and uncomprehending at the clipboard shoved beneath his nose. A lot of medical mumbo-jumbo that he couldn't make sense of, but he didn't need to. Those words were ringing like bombshells in his head.

"Congratulations," Dr. Valencia added, and just like that, his whole world was flipped—turned upside down, and all he could think at that moment was _I'_ _m going to fucking throw up._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dabs . very nervous about this fic . love all of u. mwah


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tws for this chapter:  
> several mentions of abortion as an option  
> at one point, octane considers getting rid of the baby himself by taking stim  
> some stuff that could potentially induce dysphoria, like minor talk about menstrual cycles
> 
> and rampart and octane play russian roulette

_“I understand your boy’s got a degree in computer science, or whatever,” Ramya said, moving her little Mirage piece onto Boardwalk. “But Nat made an AOE death ring, so.”_

_“Yeah, ‘cuz she had all the money to do so.” Octavio rolled the die, got a seven, and nudged his Octane piece onto Pennsylvania Railroad._

_“Railroads are mine. Gimme.”_

_He tossed a few real dollars into her lap. “That’s snack money to me, baby.”_

_“It’s exactly why we’re playing with real dough. I need to siphon all your rich boy change into my bank account.” Ramya counted the twenties before pocketing them with a grin. “Anyways, so what if she had money? She still did it.”_

_“Crypto developed a drone when he was living in a dumpster. Or something like that.” Octavio watched her roll the die, foot tapping impatiently on the ground. This wasn’t a normal game of Monopoly, which was the only thing keeping him from running off; a loaded Wingman laid between them, ready for whenever they passed Go._

_“Eh, the drone’s nifty, but again. Death ring.”_

_Ramya moved her piece past Go and lifted up the gun. Octavio grinned as he watched her hold it up to her head and pull the trigger._

_Nothing happened._

_“Don’t look so excited every time I do that,” she scoffed. “You just make me want to rob you even more.”_

_They went a couple more turns, still going back-and-forth over whose partner was better, before Octavio passed Go and held the Wingman up to his head. Electricity sparked throughout him, as if he'd been jump-started._

_“I’m just saying Crypto could take down the government,” he said._

_“But he hasn’t yet. Lame.”_

_“Could Nat take down the government?”_

_“I dunno, I haven’t asked her yet.” Ramya threw a potato chip at him. “Now shoot.”_

_He pulled the trigger, and the next thing he knew he was blinking in the respawn area of the training range. Aw, man. Game over. He hadn’t even gotten any of his money back._

_“Booyeah!” He heard Ramya shout. “Oh, sweet cash, all mine. Thanks for being a dumbass, Silva.”_

_“Crypto’s better,” was all he had to say, and she cackled at him._

_“Hey, if it makes you feel better after that loss, go ahead, mate.”_

* * *

Dr. Valencia said a lot of stuff in a very short amount of time. His mind kept wandering, even though Octavio knew that in a situation like this that he shouldn’t be thinking of other things. He couldn’t help it—there was something cold and daunting crawling up his spine.

Fear.

Octavio loved fear. Some people thought that he was fearless, but that couldn't be further from the truth—and that was _exciting_. The fear of not knowing if he was going to make it out alive, the heart-thumping adrenaline that surged through him whenever he held a gun up to his head...it was all a part of the rush.

Fear motivated him. Just differently than everyone else.

But _this_ fear wasn’t nearly as fun. This fear was more deep-rooted, because its negative consequences weren’t something that could be shaken off as easily as, say, blowing your own legs off.

He liked his relationship with Crypto. More than he’d thought he would. He liked being able to wake up to his stupid face, and talk to him and kiss him and feel like someone was _paying attention_ to him and that he didn’t have to act out just to get it. But he knew that their relationship was...

That Crypto was...

“Do you know the father?” Dr. Valencia was asking before he corrected himself. “Or rather, the—”

“Yes,” Octavio said, but his voice sounded far-away to him, distant in his ears. The room was freezing cold, and he wrapped his arms around himself, feeling goosebumps beneath his touch.

 _You should’ve brought your coat,_ Crypto's voice told him.

“Are you going to let them be involved with your decision-making?”

“Um...” He looked down at the papers that had been set down for him, so many at once—one for an abortion clinic, one recommending vitamins for him to take if he chose to keep the damned thing, a pamphlet for parenting classes, a different pamphlet specifically for trans men, his doctor’s note—

Oh god. His fucking doctor’s note.

He felt light-headed.

“You don’t have to make your choice right away,” Dr. Valencia said, trying to sound soothing, but Octavio was too shaken. “When was your last menstrual cycle?”

Octavio’s fingers dug into the cot behind him. He didn’t remember leaning against it, but it provided him good support as his legs suddenly felt wobbly. Which should be _impossible,_ but...

“I don’t know,” he said. The last time he’d had any symptoms had been June of last year, but it was all pretty irregular for him after he’d started taking testosterone...

Dr. Valencia kept asking questions, and for each one he didn't know the answer. He felt nauseous and like his head had been stuffed full of cotton, but the elderly man just kept going, kept saying things that made Octavio feel more and more like running away.

“How much stim have you used within the past month?”

“Have you been taking any birth control?”

“Have you missed any of your injections?”

“Do you feel any...”

“I don’t _know_ ,” Octavio burst out, and Dr. Valencia shut up. What was this, twenty fucking questions? He just wanted to _go home_. He was tired and he didn’t want to be out and if this guy asked him one more _fucking_ thing he was going to explode. "Can you just—can you get back to me in a couple of days?"

Dr. Valencia pursed his lips, hesitant, before nodding. He arranged all of the papers and pamphlets into a neat little stack before handing them to Octavio, who accepted them and swept out into the lobby without another word. His co-pay wasn’t much—the insurance the Games provided for him was pretty great, actually. Not that he’d pretend to know about any of that insurance stuff.

Actually, he knew way more about it than he liked. He just wanted to _pretend_ that he didn’t know much about it.

He had a fucking headache.

Octavio felt like there was a huge sign painted onto his back as he walked down the street. The papers in his hands seemed to be burning into his skin, and he clutched them tightly to his chest, paranoid that someone would be able to read them even as he walked quickly by. He eventually ducked into an alleyway and pulled out several of them—the pamphlets, the vitamins, the pregnancy calendar—and tossed them into the garbage.

He then shoved the doctor’s note and the paper with the name of that abortion clinic blazoned across the top beneath his shirt, and just as he did so his phone buzzed in his pocket.

He froze, fearing that Crypto somehow knew what had happened and was messaging him angrily—before he reasoned with himself that that probably wasn't likely. He forced himself to relax as he pulled his phone from his pocket.

He didn’t have the guy saved as ‘ _Crypto’_ in his contacts because that would be fucking boring, so seeing the three eggplant emojis flash across his screen managed to bring a smile to his face—until he read the message.

_‘Everything ok?’_

Octavio shoved it back into his pocket without responding; he had to figure out what the fuck he was going to tell Crypto.

Crypto, his paranoid, mysterious boyfriend on the run from the government who couldn’t even stand to tell Octavio his real name. Crypto, who got up three times a night to make absolutely sure that the front door was locked— _that_ Crypto, the Crypto likely to fucking dump his ass once he heard the news. 

_No he won’t_ , Octavio tried reasoning with himself as he slid his boyfriend-not-boyfriend’s Metro card through the card reader. _I’ll just get rid of it! He won’t need to break up with me if I get a..._

Ugggh. Nausea again. The smell of the train was so _awful_.

He spent most of the train ride home with his eyes squeezed shut, and nearly missed his stop because of it. Stumbling out onto the platform, the doctor’s note nearly slipped out from beneath his shirt, and he crumpled it in his fist in his attempt to stop it from falling to the ground. _Fuck_ , he had to get home _fast_ because he was sure that his fear could be easily read on his face and—

The next thing he knew he was bursting into his apartment, which was very hot. Sweltering, even. Who the fuck cranked up the heat? He looked over at the couch where Crypto was still doing his nerd shit on his laptop, though he set it aside and stood up as Octavio kicked the door shut behind him, clutching his stomach and the papers hidden inside his shirt.

“What happened?” Crypto asked warily, eyes flickering to the door, as if expecting someone to burst in after him. 

“Bathroom,” Octavio lied, and swept past him, trying to keep his cool. Right, this wasn’t the first time he’d hidden something, this was just like when his dad came home from vacation early that one time and Octavio had to shove Andre Lacombe into his closet and pretend that everything was fine and he _definitely_ wasn’t hiding a boy in his room or anything and—

He managed to lock the door behind him with shaky hands, pulling both pieces of paper out from beneath his shirt. He couldn’t hide this anywhere in his room, because Crypto was going to _fucking_ find it, stupid bastard was always checking the corners as if he was afraid someone was watching them. He’d have to put it somewhere he hardly ever looked, which...

Which would be his stash of stim in the bathroom closet! Crypto had no reason to check there, he left Octavio’s stim alone...

He folded the paper for the abortion clinic in half and slid it underneath several vials of the stuff, humming to himself under his breath. A nervous habit, but it wasn’t like Crypto could hear him from out in the living room anyways. He couldn’t hide the doctor’s note, that would be too suspicious, but he did fold it in such a way that all one could see was the office’s name on top plus Dr. Valencia's, oh so he was right, Sinag Valencia, that was the guy’s name...

A knock came on the door, and Octavio straightened up so abruptly that he hit his head on the upper door of the bathroom closet. Hissing to himself quietly, he rubbed the stinging area as he shut the door as softly as possible, not wanting Crypto to hear the fact that he was looking around in there.

He flushed the toilet under the pretense of having used it, taking a deep breath, before unlocking the door and meeting Crypto out in the hallway.

“What’d they say,” Crypto asked flatly, looking Octavio up and down, and he waved his note around so that the other could see it—briefly, before letting his hand drop.

“Flu, y’know, uhhh Anita had it last week so I guess I caught it, right?”

“Anita had strep throat,” the other man pointed out.

“Shit, really?” He recovered easily, because lying was so easy for him, fuck, he did this all the time. “Don’t know where I got it from, then, but you should definitely go back to your place for a bit."

The taller man arched an eyebrow, now looking slightly concerned. "You don't want me to stay and-?"

" _No,_ " Octavio yelped, and then felt kind of bad when Crypto's mouth snapped shut. "I mean...I don't want you to get sick either, cariño. Está bien?"

Crypto looked as if he wanted to argue, gnawing on the inside of his cheek—before he just sighed and walked back out into the living room. Octavio watched from a distance as he gathered up his things, foot tapping impatiently, and he only moved from where he was hovering in the hallway when the older man moved past him to get his jacket from his bedroom.

“Bye,” Octavio said shortly as Crypto opened the door. He hesitated, as if debating something, before saying quietly,

“I’ll come by tomorrow and...” A light flush came to the older man's cheeks, lower lip jutting out in what was almost a pout. “Check up on you.”

He then opened the door wider, and Octavio felt that stupid fuzzy feeling in him again as Crypto gave him a tiny wave goodbye. “Feel better, alright? Jal-isseo.”

Octavio stood there, stationary and alone, for about five seconds as he let himself bask in the warm feeling that Crypto gave him. He then made a run for his room, practically crashing into his gaming chair and scooting it right before his computer. He smoothed out the crumpled doctor’s note against the cleanest surface of his desk so that he could read it better, before opening up the barely-used writing app on his computer.

Because his insurance was provided by the Games, they would know that he went to the doctor’s today, and they would ask him for a note—and they would fucking _ban_ him if they found out the truth. He wasn’t ready to quit the Apex Games! What the hell would be do without them? Getting shot at every day was his reason for living! He wasn’t ready to have his whole life get fucked over by—

Octavio let his forehead hit his desk as the reality of it all finally hit him like a sack of bricks. Well, bricks was a nice word. Bricks implied something solid and final and abrupt. It was more like a bag of cats—yowling, scratching, little demons clawing at him from the inside and out. Clinging to him and tearing him down. 

Because reality was setting in. He'd been trying not to think too hard about it for the past half hour, tried to ignore the petrifying fact that...

“I’m pregnant,” he mumbled to himself, and saying those two words out loud was probably the scariest stunt he’d ever pulled.

There was a tiny little baby inside of him, and it was _Crypto’s_ , and it was about to ruin his career in the Apex Games and perhaps the best thing that’s happened to him in a while, this stupid _relationship._

...Except.

Except it didn’t _have to._

Because he was going to forge the note. He’d type it all out, make it look _exactly_ like the real note and just change some of the finer details, like oh yeah, _the fact that he was fucking pregnant._ He’d turn it in, resume activity as normal, and the baby...

Octavio bit harshly on his lower lip, leg bouncing as he remembered the doctor’s words. He vaguely recalled the fact that he’d have to stop taking stim until he made his decision, at the risk of harming the...thing in him. It was too early to be an actual baby, right? It was just...I dunno, a bunch of cells? Or an egg?

Ugh. This is what he got for skipping biology class back in freshman year.

But theoretically, if he took enough stim...

_Bada-bing, bada-boom. Baby begone._

Wait, no, that’d be a waste of good stim, and then he’d have to get more, and not that his dad cared but he would definitely notice if he took stim from him earlier than usual and oh fuck what if his dad fucking found out. What if his dad...

Octavio took a deep breath as he grabbed a fistful of his hair, nails digging into his scalp. He hardly noticed the pain—everything else was just too much right now.

_I’m so. Fucking. Screwed._

He got up to grab himself a can of beer—but then hesitated and went for a can of Monster instead—before ultimately choosing a bottle of water. He didn’t know why. Maybe it was because some part of him knew that beer or Monster would certainly not help his mood right now.

Octavio drained half the bottle, trying not to feel as if his whole world was coming to an end...because it wasn’t. Nobody was going to put a stop to the Octrain, even if he had to pull a few strings and do some illegal stuff to keep it up. He would forge a note, pretend he just had the flu, and with his time off he’d go do the abortion thingie, and then come back like everything was normal. The Commissioner would never know, his fellow Legends would never know, Che would never know, and Crypto would never...

Fuck.

Crypto.

He collapsed back into his chair, staring at his computer screen but not really seeing it. He felt as if he had to let Crypto know, somehow...but he was afraid of what would happen. Would Crypto get mad that he never took any sort of birth control? Look, in his defense, testosterone was like, a pretty good form of birth control. Technically. Not really. But like, it did the job. For the most part.

(Exceptforthefactthathehadprobablymissedafewdoseswhichiswhy-)

But wait, no, he could totally swing it around and make it Crypto’s fault too, _why did you never wear a condom you stupid-_

His phone suddenly rang, causing him to jump so violently that he kicked his desk and knocked a few things to the ground. He pulled it from his pocket and stared at the screen, Che’s name jumping out at him like a pop-up horror book. His finger hovered over the ‘ _answer’_ button—he’d already lied to Crypto today, he could probably lie to her too—but he never actually pressed it. His phone kept ringing before it eventually stopped, and she didn’t call him again. Instead, a text message from her flashed across the screen, but he didn’t read it.

Octavio plugged his phone into its charger before collapsing onto his bed, which felt strangely empty without Crypto. He’d gotten too used to curling up beside him, especially because he tended to get super cold, and the other man was like a human furnace, and...

His fingers curled into his blanket as he pulled it over his shoulder, still staring blankly at the wall across from him. He was freaking the fuck out. He just needed to take a nap, and maybe...maybe this whole nightmare would be over with. And if he was still in the middle of it tomorrow, well, he had a doctor’s note to forge and an appointment to make.

* * *

The next day was not very fun.

Everything that he had thought could be the symptom of a cold or a UTI—the nausea, the need to pee every ten minutes—seemed a hundred times worse now that he knew its true cause. He ate a bowl of sugary cereal only to throw it up half an hour later, curled up against the toilet as he tried not to feel like shit. Morning sickness, was it? Fuck you, you stupid little fetus.

And on top of all that he was so fucking _tired._

He didn’t even know why. It wasn’t like he’d done anything today. Or yesterday. Or the day before that. All he did was lay around and feel miserable, and occasionally play video games. Which he also tried to do today, but he kept failing that level he’d been so close to beating yesterday. In his defense, _you_ try to win a game when your whole world was on the brink of collapse.

Octavio eventually grew frustrated with his lack of progress and curled up onto the couch, wrapped up in two blankets, one which technically belonged to Crypto. It was big and heavy, just like his jacket, and it smelled a lot like him too. He was freezing cold, and its comforting weight on his shoulders was enough to make everything feel a little less bad. Burying his face into the soft blanket, he tried to imagine that his boyfriend-not-boyfriend was here with him, helping him feel secure.

Crypto was...

Good.

He liked him. A lot. He listened to Octavio ramble, bought him things, ran his fingers through his hair and was a pretty kick-ass squadmate on top of that, even if he did boring things like plan ahead. But their relationship was pretty unstable, like a Jenga tower—and they were one block away from toppling it all over.

He didn’t know which choice would be the one that ruined it all for them. Telling Crypto that he was...well... _the thing_...or going behind his back to get rid of it. Would it be better if Crypto never found out? But what if he did, and then he got mad that Octavio didn’t tell him? He could either risk the other’s anger now or prolong it somewhere else down the line...

He flipped over on the couch, trying to think it through—which wasn’t his greatest strength, but something really fucking good and borderline addicting was on the line. If he told Crypto now, and then he got angry, then...well, the problem could be immediately solved! He could book that appointment and maybe buy a fucking pack of condoms while he was it. If he didn’t tell Crypto at all but he found out later, then...maybe he’d be even angrier...and Octavio couldn’t turn back time to tell him the truth, so that seemed like the option more likely to get him fucking dumped.

Like he had been at the hot-tub.

Oh god the fucking hot-tub.

Octavio threw the blanket over his face as it heated up, eyes burning with...tears? Why was he fucking crying? Oh yeah, because he was _stupid_ , and everything was super bad right now, and he had to do an adult thing and make an adult choice and...

His front door opened, and Octavio fell off the couch with a screech.

Crypto stood there, wide-eyed and rosy-cheeked from the cold outside. In one hand was a little Tupperware container full of what looked like chicken noodle soup. In his other hand was the spare key that Octavio had forgotten he’d given to him.

“...Are you okay?” Crypto asked, sounding faintly amused, but his expression quickly changed once he caught sight of Octavio’s face. “What happened?”

“I just scraped my knee,” he lied, raising his hand to wipe at his runny nose quickly. His heart was hammering in his chest; he didn't want the other man to figure out that there was something wrong just yet.

“You.” Crypto hesitated, head cocking to the side. “Don’t have knees?”

Oh. Right.

His boyfriend-not-boyfriend closed the door behind him, setting the soup down on the coffee table, which hadn’t been cleared in like, a week. A dozen soda cans were stacked on top, along with empty chip bags and a lone, used stim needle. Crypto eyed that needle before glancing back to Octavio. He looked like he wanted to say something, and Octavio flinched, but the other man just ended up asking,

“How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” Octavio said, which was the first true thing he’d said in the past twenty-four hours. He tried not to make eye contact with Crypto, afraid that the other man would be able to see all of his lies laid out before him as his fingers tapped against his thigh, body suddenly filled with energy. Nervous energy, the type of energy that made his hands tremble and his voice crack. He was familiar with all types of energy, the good and the bad, and this was definitely the bad.

Now would be a good time to tell the other man the truth. Just get it over with, like ripping off a band-aid. Maybe Crypto would be angry with him at first, but hey, as long as he shoved the paper for that abortion clinic under his nose then...!

God, their relationship was so fucking tenuous. Crypto was sweet and hot and mysterious, but that was the key word, wasn’t it? _Mysterious_. He didn’t know his real name, or where he was from, or what he’d done. They weren’t that deep into a relationship. This could easily rip the whole thing apart like paper in a shredder.

Octavio was a band-aid baby. His parents had him in a last-ditch effort to save their marriage, but it hadn’t worked, and they’d split ways. His father hardly breathed in his same direction, and when he _did..._

Well. That was something he didn't want to remember.

His mother was hardly even in the picture. The last time he’d spoken to her he’d been fifteen, because she’d wanted to come back into his life all of a sudden and throw him a quinceañera... _uh, bad news, madre._

Point was, Octavio didn’t have any frame of reference for how a parent _should_ be. His own parents sucked ass and it took him years to get over the bitter taste in his mouth whenever he thought about entering a relationship of his own. This thing with Crypto was only possible because he'd managed to swallow down his hang-ups and tell himself _I am not my father._

But kids? Fucking forget it. Octavio would be the worst possible dad ever, and you know what? He was _fine_ with that. He was fine with that reality because he had told himself that he was never going to have kids. That had seemed so impossible, so _far away_ —

And then this had happened.

And it was fucking him up super bad.

There was no way that Crypto would want to keep this thing. Not with how paranoid he was, always checking the corners, afraid of his own goddamned shadow. That exact paranoia was what could potentially lead to him breaking up with Octavio (even if they weren’t, like, official) but as long as Crypto understood that _he_ didn’t want this either, maybe they could come out of this okay. Maybe this nightmare would only be a few days long.

Octavio practically ran from the room, leaving the other man behind with a confused look on his face. He stumbled into the bathroom, kneeling down as he threw open the lower door of the bathroom closet—shoved all his stim aside to scoop up the paper for the clinic, and by the time he’d returned Crypto was asking,

“What are you—”

“You know I’ve only been sleeping with you, right?” Octavio cut him off, bouncing from foot to foot as he tried to get his point across without having to actually say it out loud. “Just you, for this past year or whatever. So it’s—it’s uh—it _has_ to be you.”

“...Okay,” Crypto mumbled, sounding wary. “ _What_ has to be me?”

Octavio bit on his tongue, not sure where to begin, where to even fucking start. _Just say the goddamn words_ , he shouted at himself, but part of him wanted to shove the paper into the other man’s chest and hope that he understood what he was trying to say, didn’t some couples have like telepathy or whatever? He _so_ wished they had that right now, that Crypto could read his mind so that he wouldn’t have to say—

“I’m pregnant.”

Crypto, who had been reaching for his back pocket cautiously, froze. His brows were furrowed, lips parted slightly—and man, under any other circumstance, Octavio would fucking treasure that dumbfounded expression, but now—

“I went to the doctor’s, and uh, they took some blood from me I guess and it s-said that I was pregnant, so yeah, that’s a thing,” Octavio rushed out, clenching the paper in his fist tightly behind him. “And it’s yours, because y’know, and—”

“Are you...” Crypto took a deep breath, running his hand through his hair as his other hand placed itself on his hip. His voice was tinged with disbelief as he continued, “Are you being serious? Is this a joke, Octavio?”

“ _No!_ ” He snapped, voice raised, and oh fuck it, he might as well show him the stupid doctor’s note, he was a hacker and could probably help Octavio cover the whole thing up anyways. He stormed into his room, grabbed the note from his desk, and practically shoved it right into Crypto’s face, because _yeah okay_ he pulled a lot of pranks, he knew that, but this was fucking _real_ , this was legit, why the _hell_ would he make this up?

Crypto’s eyes scanned the paper, mouthing along to a few words as Octavio waited for him, impatient. He took in the tense line of his shoulders, the way he seemed to be reading the same sentence over and over again, until—

“This is real.”

It was a statement, not a question. A crack in the middle of Crypto’s voice, barely detectable, but there all the same. His boyfriend-not-boyfriend looked up at him, thunderstruck, as if seeking out further confirmation, and he nodded impatiently.

Then, something incredibly bizarre happened.

It happened slowly, at first—agonizingly so. But soon Crypto’s shoulders were relaxing, and there was a weird twitch to his lips; something Octavio recognized, the very same twitch that occurred whenever he was trying not to laugh at something that he said. And then the other man was looking up at him with this really weird grin on his face—like he was trying really hard to fight it back, but he just couldn’t help it.

Octavio was very familiar with that grin.

He just had no idea why it was making its appearance now.

“That’s, ah.” The other man ran his hand through his hair again, lowering the doctor’s note as his eyes darted around the room, like he was checking for any sort of hidden cameras. Maybe he still thought it was a prank—but then he was finally looking directly at him. “That’s great, Octavio.”

_What._

He opened his mouth to say something, but words failed him. He felt like he’d had the rug ripped out from beneath him, because what sort of reaction was _that_? Did the other man hear him correctly? Did he understand what was going on? 

“Great?” He ended up repeating, and Crypto looked away, suddenly sheepish.

“Sorry, I’ve just...I’ve always wanted...” His fingers tapped against the paper, mirroring what Octavio so often did, before finishing rather lamely, “Kids.”

“You. You _want_ kids?” Octavio asked, bewildered. His anxiety had ebbed away, replaced by shock because _what do you fucking_ mean _this paranoid asshole wants kids?_

Crypto wasn’t meeting his eyes, fumbling with the paper a bit as he ran his tongue over his lips—stalling for time, searching for words to say. Octavio waited for him to speak because he couldn’t believe what the other man was saying; he was so sure that he would be angry with him, or freaking out, because he was just so fucking _weird_ and paranoid and...

“I was an orphan,” Crypto finally said, and Octavio froze. “I didn’t have parents growing up. Or a family. Well, I did, but now I...”

 _I was an orphan_. Holy shit. Holy _shit_ Crypto was telling him stuff. Backstory stuff. And he used to have a family? Is that what he was saying? _‘I did, but now—’_ now _what?_ What had happened?

What if he had a wife or something like that before all of this? Yeah, okay, that notion was crazy, but anything seemed possible to him after those words. His head was spinning as he tried to take in this bombshell, not having been prepared to learn about Crypto's...well, everything.

“...You wanted to start a family?” Octavio asked, disbelief coloring his voice, and Crypto’s face flushed a little.

"It sounds stupid when you say it like that." The other man bit his lip. "I didn't ever plan on doing it _now._ Here. Where they..."

He sighed, sentence trailing off ominously, before he let his eyes slip shut.

"Family is very important to me. _This_ is very important to me." Crypto raised his hand, reaching out towards him, but Octavio flinched away. He saw something change in the other's eyes at this reaction, and after a moment of hesitation, he let his hand drop.

“Octavio,” he said quietly. “Do you... _want_ to keep it?”

There it was: an out. A chance for him to say no, because he didn’t. He _really_ didn’t want to have a kid. He wasn’t ready to quit the Games, and god what if his dad found out, what if the media found out, his streaming career was _basically_ over, the other Legends would laugh at him, he didn't know how to handle children or talk to them or hold them or...

He didn’t want this stupid kid.

_But..._

But he was really, _really_ fucking close to something with Crypto right now. Their relationship had been tenuous, but this almost felt like they were approaching that breakthrough he’d felt months ago. They were currently in a strange limbo of dating but not really, boyfriends but not really, and he didn’t _know_ what to do from here to take it to the next step. He just knew that he didn’t want to let it go, but Octavio had always had a hard time maintaining relationships with people. 

How disappointed would Crypto be if he told him no? Would that be what broke them up? He had thought that it would be quite the opposite—yeah, he didn’t even want kids, but he had been so sure that if Crypto thought he did then he would break it off with Octavio. _A mistake,_ he would probably say—just like he’d told Octavio once.

_I thought to myself that being with you was a mistake._

Octavio was a mistake. This fucking... _baby thing_ was a mistake. But Crypto wanted it. And he wanted Crypto.

He crumpled the paper in his hand behind his back, a sickly feeling settling in his stomach as he made his decision. An adult one; just not the one he'd thought he would make.

“Yeah,” he said. He had told so many lies recently that his voice didn’t even waver. “If you want it too.”

Crypto smiled again, and it was almost enough to make the nausea go away. Almost.

“I do.”

He was then pulled into a hug, and he managed to discreetly toss the paper away behind Crypto’s back. The other’s arms wrapped around him tightly, and he felt fingers card themselves gently through his hair before the top of his head was being kissed. Oh that was...weirdly intimate. He. Kind of liked it.

“You’re sure?”

“Uh-huh.” He swallowed, trying to fight back the feeling of numbness crawling through his veins. “How hard can it be?”

( _You’re so fucking stupid, Octavio Silva._

_You’re so fucking irresponsible._

_Tell me something I don’t know,_ he thought to himself.)

Crypto pulled away from him, and something changed. While just seconds ago he’d seemed softer, more open than he’d ever been, he now seemed a lot more guarded. Wary. He glanced around the room, jaw set, as Octavio tried not to let himself be overtaken by feelings of dismay.

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

* * *

Octavio stared at Crypto...no, _Taejoon_ , as he opened up the pizza box and handed him a slice. They’d come to an agreement that Octavio would sit still and listen to his long-ass story only if he got pizza out of it, but now he was teeming with too many questions to just sit around and eat.

“So she’s your adopted sister, right?” He asked, just to make sure he understood what was going on, and Taejoon nodded solemnly as he folded his slice of pizza in half.

“And you’re looking for her?”

“Correct.”

“And you want to take down the Syndicate while you're at it? The Games?”

“Yes.”

Octavio squinted at him, leg bouncing against the back of the couch. “And you don’t have a wife or anything, right?”

Taejoon frowned, looking perplexed by this question, but answered anyway. “No.”

“Okay,” Octavio said. That was a lot of information to take in, but he was doing his best. “So _why_ are you telling me all of this?”

“Because if we...” Taejoon trailed off, that familiar red flush coming to his cheeks, before his jaw set in a hard line and he glared straight ahead, as if imagining that the wall across from them was the Syndicate’s ugly face. “If we’re going to...”

They both kept tip-toeing around the bottom line, which Octavio couldn’t blame the guy for. He kept getting nauseous every time he remembered what had happened only two hours ago, but those emotions were currently placed on a back-burner as he tried to sort through this bombshell first.

“If we’re gonna have a kid,” Octavio finished for him, and curled up even more on the couch as if to shield himself from the weight of those words.

“Yes. If we’re going to be together like this, and have a child, then.” His boyfriend-not-boyfriend sighed, before looking back at him with a serious expression. “You needed to know the whole truth. To be honest, I thought you would take it rather well. I was right.”

“What took you so long to tell me, then?”

“Fear,” Taejoon replied automatically. “And I never knew the right moment. But now seemed as good a time as any.”

They both sat in silence for a bit as Octavio mulled over all of this new information in his head. So Taejoon had been framed for murder, then, all because he found out something he wasn't supposed to. Well, he’d lost his bet with Ramya, but _she_ didn’t have to know that. She had enough of his money already. 

More importantly, he understood why the other wanted a family now. Building one after not having parents and losing your sibling had to be somewhat cathartic, right? Even if he was doing it with the worst possible person, which was Octavio. Taejoon had even risked his safety to tell him all of this, which made him a little happy and a lot terrified.

There had been some part of him that had been wanting to retract his statement—find that crumpled-up paper and tell Taejoon that he couldn’t fucking do this, man, he was a goddamned daredevil and _‘settling down’_ had never been a part of his life plan. Not that he’d ever really _had_ one.

But now...now he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He understood that this was something that Taejoon really wanted, that Taejoon was _serious_ about him, and if he told him no, then he could put strain on everything. Especially after the guy just told him his whole tragic backstory. What if he thought that Octavio had tricked him into doing it, and then like, killed him or something? Wait, no, stupid little brain, he wouldn’t do that, he was pregnant, he wouldn’t want to risk his chance of having a...

He felt his face flush, for some reason. _A baby._

That was such. A terrifying word.

“Do you mind if I tell Natalie? Taejoon asked him quietly, and Octavio blinked out of his stupor. “Just—Just Natalie.”

“Are we boyfriends now?” Octavio asked suddenly, and the other man stared at him, before nodding his head in a tiny motion.

“We’ve been boyfriends, Octavio.”

“Well, you just never said...”

“Alright.” Taejoon smiled at him, and fuck, he really liked that smile. It was so sweet. Almost sweet enough to make him not feel like throwing up. “We’re boyfriends. It’s official, now.”

“Okay.” He turned over onto his back, staring at the ceiling fan. “Go ahead then.”

He heard the sound of him typing away, and not even thirty seconds later, his phone was ringing. He pulled it towards him to glance at the name—Ramya. Oh, great.

“ _Well, first of all, congrats, mate_ ,” came her tinny voice when he answered. He could hear Natalie squealing in the background, and closed his eyes tiredly. Okay, so other people knew. Why did this feel ten times worse? “ _Anyways, I just wanted to call and say now we know who’s smarter. Natalie knows how to put on a damn rubber._ ” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not that i expected anyone to take life advice from apex legends fanfic but for the love of god don't be like octane and don't have a kid unless ur 110% sure u want it
> 
> -signed, me ( teenager ) ((has never had kids))


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tws for this chapter:  
> discussion and mentions of potential pregnancy complications due to octane's stim  
> implied addiction and withdrawal symptoms  
> some dysphoria
> 
> also thanks to octane's fast fashion skin me and a few friends came to the conclusion that the black circles on his stomach r just body modifications to look fun and sexy i guess. so he takes them off here . u.u

Taejoon was...

Happy.

That was the word he’d use to describe himself right now. Happily existing in a reality where _maybe_ everything was going to be okay. Maybe things would turn out to be alright for him. Yeah, he would still need to check for monsters in the closet and run security checks on everything, but it was going to be worth it.

Because he was going to be a _father_.

It was a silly dream he’d had in his early twenties. Fresh out of the orphanage where he’d been in charge of all the younger kids for a good five years, the big brother that everyone went to for help. He’d taken over several times whenever Mystik asked him to for a weekend, and they all loved him, and he loved them back. Mila had jokingly told him that if he put _good with kids_ on his dating profile he'd have a date in no time, and that had really made him consider having kids of his own.

But it honestly ran even deeper than that. Taejoon had long since given up seeking out his birth parents, content with the family he had made with Mystik and Mila and the others at the orphanage, but he couldn’t deny that there was some part of him that felt...Off. Empty and unfulfilled. 

He loved his mother, he loved his sister, but he wanted to start a family. Have kids, marry someone nice. Taejoon, of all people, knew that blood didn't necessarily mean _shit,_ but still, there was some part of him that would have liked to have that sort of connection with someone. And he would have most definitely adopted some kids, too. Maybe Mila would have kids on her own, and then Mystik would’ve become a grandmother—not that she _wanted_ any more kids in her life, but...

Well. That was then. Things were a bit different now.

If he was being honest, though he liked Octavio, he hadn’t been able to picture a future with him. Octavio exemplified the phrase _lightning in a bottle_. Uncontrollable, hard to contain, and stumbled into so many wins and successes that it was almost impressive with his...well, everything. He was unpredictable at his best and self-destructing at his worst.

Every moment with Octavio somehow felt fleeting in the sense that he didn’t know if he’d be able to experience it again later on down the line. No offense to his boyfriend, but he just wasn’t a person you could expect things from. And maybe that had been a part of the appeal of him to Taejoon.

Fleeting. Free. Unchained to him and the dangers that came with associating with him.

But now it was different. Now his boyfriend was pregnant, and in a few short months he’d be a father. There was a future buried in the mess that was Octavio Silva, and Taejoon felt like it would be his responsibility to unearth it completely. 

He was happy with Octavio’s decision to keep the baby, but he knew that it would be difficult for him. He would need to quit stim, quit the Games, and quit his stunts. That was a lot to ask of the man, and he would be giving up many of the things he enjoyed just to have this future with him. Taejoon wouldn’t forget that.

There was a slight, nagging fear at the back of Taejoon’s mind. A little voice repeating his fears and doubts to him, but he was able to squash it down as he laid beside Octavio that night, arm curled around his waist. He didn’t want to pay it any attention at the moment. For now, he would bask in the warm, glowy feeling inside of him that had ignited as soon as Octavio had said those two words earlier.

The future was daunting. But at least it was _there_.

* * *

The next morning, Taejoon made Octavio call the doctor’s office and ask them to email him all of the stuff he’d thrown away. Dr. Valencia asked him over the phone,

“So you’re keeping the baby?”

“...Yeah,” he said quietly, like if he said it in a low enough voice it would make it less disconcerting.

“Then I would highly recommend that you get an ultrasound done as soon as possible,” he told Octavio. “Your participation in the Games and usage of stim could have—”

“Okay, I got it,” Octavio cut him off, not really wanting to hear it, and he was given a list of clinics to check out. He was writing it all down, which was _not_ fun. Who the hell writes things down when on the phone? _Boring people,_ that’s who.

But Taejoon kissed him on his cheek when he shoved over the list of clinics and mumbled something along the lines of _‘I’m proud of you’_ , which was nice. For about three seconds.

Then—

“You... _do_ realize you’re going to have to quit the Apex Games, right?” Taejoon asked him warily, and Octavio scowled at those words. He'd known that they were coming, but he was peeved all the same. “Octavio—”

“Why?” He demanded, crossing his arms, and Taejoon sighed, as if _he’d_ known he’d ask that. An argument that they both knew was coming, but neither were happy to have. “C’mon, we get respawned and the damage gets undone! Nothing’s gonna—”

“You don’t know that,” Taejoon told him, though he was still being very gentle with his tone and words. Octavio hated this benign treatment, as if he were something fragile and not the bastard who'd launched himself across the Psamathean Gauntlet finish line with a grenade.

“Uh, yeah I do. I’ve been stabbed in the heart, _twice_ , by Revenant—and I’m still fucking alive! No heart problems, nothing!” Octavio paced back and forth, picking at one of the burn scabs on his forearm. Quitting the Apex Games? _Hell_ no! He’d (foolishly) hoped that Taejoon would help him forge a note in order to get back into them, not do whatever _this_ was. He knew how important they were to him, how essential they were to staving off his boredom...

“Fine. Let’s say you’re correct.” Taejoon leaned against the back of his couch, something a touch sharper in his gaze as he leveled Octavio with a stare. “What about your stim?”

Octavio froze. “My what?”

“Your stim. You can’t use it anymore. What are you going to do in place of it?”

Distantly, Octavio had known that he’d have to quit stim. That he’d have to cut back on his use of it or drop it completely in order to keep this... _thing_ alive. But...

_But..._

Taejoon took his wrist gently before pulling him closer to him, so that he was now standing between the other’s legs. Octavio stared hard at his chest, trying to think up an argument, but his boyfriend placed his finger beneath his chin and tilted his face up so that he was forced to make eye contact with him once again.

“I’m putting my faith in you,” Taejoon said, and wow, that was a really nice sentiment, but also a huge fucking mistake. Octavio shifted on his feet, eyes darting around as he tried to think. He was going to have to quit stim, he knew, but...stim and the Games, all at once? What about—

“What about my streams?” He burst out, and Taejoon bit his lip.

“I’m not going to make you quit them. But-”

And here Taejoon’s hand moved from his chin to the burns on his forearm, eyes narrowing as he stressed,

“No more of _this._ "

Octavio stared at where his fingers were just barely hovering over shiny skin, and though he wasn't directly touching him he swore he could still feel a stinging sensation there.

"Understand?" Taejoon asked, and Octavio swallowed back his retort.

Okay, so this was...asking a _lot_ of him, but. How hard could it be? He could handle it no problem! He was the Octrain! He wouldn't let something like quitting the Games and his stunts and his stim and basically everything that kept him from losing his mind from boredom get in the way!

( _Fuck_.

 _Fuckkkkkkk._ )

Okay, so he was going to have to quit the Games. For now. Surely he’d be back, how long could nine months be? Actually, he had to be roughly two months along, so it was more like seven! He’d have to go on leave for seven months, and make his streams vanilla for a while. He was used to gaming and doing things that didn’t necessarily require him to put his life in danger. He’d just have to get a bit more... _creative_ with his content in the upcoming weeks.

Though there was now a new problem coming to mind: his rent. How was he supposed to pay it without his main source of income? Octavio had never quite realized how much he relied on the Games to pay for his things. Hell, the contractors even wired his earnings directly to his landlord, so he never handled any of that shit himself. All he knew was that every couple of weeks he got a fuckton of money in his bank account to go blow on things like surround-sound speakers and energy drinks and motorcycles.

He had to have _some_ left over, right? Though this meant that now he’d have to actually pay for his rent by himself. Unless he just started taking more money out of his trust fund, but his father would definitely notice _that_. Octavio mostly used that money for frivolous things—someone was bound to take note of the fact that he was taking out larger amounts of money periodically, and then they would contact his father, and his father would come here and ask him—

Octavio was going to be sick again.

He backed away from Taejoon and ran to the bathroom just in time to throw up, which was a good sign. The little fucker inside him already knew to fear its grandfather.

(Oh god. _Grandfather_. Why was this so fucking scary to him he was fucking _Octane_ dammit he fought _murder robots_ with _knife fingers._ )

A hand rubbed soothing circles into his back, his boyfriend murmuring things in Korean to him as he got to his feet and stood before the sink to rinse his mouth. Taking money out of his trust fund wasn’t going to be a viable option for long. He’d have to find some other way to make money. Maybe...

Ah, what was the word? That thing his fourth stepmother did when she was pregnant...until she got kicked out of the house when his father found out that the kid wasn’t his...

Maternal leave?

Something like that.

“‘Joon,” he coughed after he had finished getting the icky taste out of his mouth, and the taller man hummed in response. “Uhh, do the Games have...parental leave?”

“Not sure." Taejoon frowned. “But they have to abide by the laws of where they take place. Does Olympus have mandatory parental leave?”

“Manda-what.”

“I’ll look it up,” he said, changing his mind, and went back into the living room, Octavio following close behind. He looked over Taejoon’s shoulder as he searched it up online, and they both found out that Olympus mandated parental leave for those expecting starting at seven months into their pregnancy—and could continue for up to one year, paid.

“So you only get paid here starting at seven months,” Taejoon read. “Which means you can be denied pay if you leave before then. Knowing _them,_ they’re not going to want to pay you if you quit now.”

“More reason for me to stay, then?” Octavio asked hopefully. Taejoon shot him a glare. “Or not.”

Ugh. Vitamins. Ultrasounds. Quitting the Games. Quitting stim. Changing his streaming plans. No parental leave. His father possibly finding out. He was starting to get overwhelmed, so he crossed around the couch to boot up his gaming system.

Octavio played mindlessly for a little while, setting himself impossible challenges in his head and swiveling around a bit in his chair while Taejoon did more research on his computer. He didn’t know what he was doing, but as long as he wasn’t being made to think about the future right now, he’d be fine.

This was short-lived, however, because almost an hour into him playing his game Taejoon mumbled,

“This clinic looks good.”

“Eh?” Octavio asked, not paying attention.

“For your ultrasound. This one.”

A cold feeling settled within him at those words. Ultrasound, right. That’s when they would be looking at...the...

 _Stop getting nauseous you fucking pussy_ , he screamed at himself.

He looked over at what Taejoon was showing him, some clinic not very far from here. A short train ride away, though the churning in his stomach wasn’t helped at all by the thought of that awful smell again. 

“Um...do you wanna handle that?” Octavio asked Taejoon, and his boyfriend raised an eyebrow, so he clarified: “The appointment.”

Taejoon stared at him, before nodding slowly. “Sure...”

Right. Okay. So he wouldn’t have to do that himself. Cool.

Octavio sat back in his chair and continued his game, trying to fight back the overwhelming feeling of _everything_ at the moment.

* * *

Taejoon scheduled his appointment for next Friday. In addition to that, he had taken the first week of the new season off to accompany him to it, though Octavio felt like he’d done it for a different reason than given.

He felt like he was being babysat. First was the fact that Taejoon wanted to accompany him _everywhere_ he went, even if it was just to the corner store to grab a pack of sodas, which had taken the place of his energy drinks. Even though he’d made the change from Monster to Sprite his caffeine intake was still being monitored, meaning that Taejoon would look at him disapprovingly whenever he reached for another can after just having one.

Which was really, _really_ not helping the shakes he was starting to have. Because in addition to having his energy drinks replaced by soda, Taejoon had straight up thrown out all of his fucking stim, even the stash he’d hidden on the dropship—which, he didn’t know _how_ he knew where it was, just knew that the fucker came home one day and declared that it had been taken care of.

Which, no biggie! Believe it or not, Octavio often went a couple of days without stim. The weekend was his break, as he usually hardly slept during the weekdays and collapsed for up to twenty-four hours once Saturday rolled around. So he could handle no stim for a bit! Yeah.

Except two days turned into three, into four, then five, and he felt like this was another reason that Taejoon had taken the whole week off; to monitor him. The tremors in his hands started on Tuesday, so his boyfriend took him to the doctor's again and got him medicine to help deal with the symptoms of withdrawal, but on Wednesday they were a lot worse. He felt more nauseous than usual, couldn’t even eat that day or the next, which made Taejoon concerned, but unwilling to budge on his stance.

“I c-can’t quit like this,” Octavio stuttered at his lowest point on Wednesday, curled up in the bathroom with his sweaty head resting on the edge of the tub. His leg was shaking too, bouncing with energy that had nowhere to go. He used stim to take the edge off his boredom, but he was now stuck in a paradox where he was anxious and needed stim to relax, despite the nature of it.

“You’ve got to,” Taejoon said firmly, but he had his phone in hand. Nervous, like him. Prepared to call someone if needed. “For—”

“For the baby,” Octavio finished before he could, and he hoped that the other man couldn’t pick up on the bitterness in his voice.

"I know cold turkey isn't ideal." Taejoon crossed his arms over his bent knees, eyes raking over Octavio's shivering body. "But I don't want anything bad to happen. Is your breathing okay?"

"Dandy."

Taejoon frowned, averting his eyes at the note of sarcasm. He tapped his fingers against the back of his phone, drumming the thick black case, before asking quietly,

"Are you sure you want to keep the-"

"Yes!" Octavio cried, and lowered his voice when Taejoon's eyes widened in surprise. "I d-do, cariño, I wanna have this k...I wanna stay with you. This just fucking _sucks_."

Taejoon was quiet for a long moment, and he almost feared that the other man didn't believe him. How could he, when he was literally curled up on the floor, suffering from withdrawal? But then he was sighing quietly, and smiling, fondly exasperated.

"Do you want pizza?" He asked.

"Fuck yeah," Octavio replied, even though he was ninety-percent sure he was gonna throw it up.

His anxiety got worse as the day of the ultrasound approached, and that only made his need for stim and sensation heighten. On Thursday night he found his old lighter after maniacally searching through his closet looking for _something_ to do that wasn’t sitting on his ass playing video games—and then spent an hour flicking it on, off, on, off, occasionally swiping his finger through the flame just for the spark of pain and excitement it’d give him.

Taejoon had sent him the PDFs for the pamphlets he’d thrown away the other day, and he’d gotten so bored that he’d tried reading them, though he had to stop quickly because they were freaking him out.

He’d started the one for trans men first, and about three paragraphs in it said _there’s a chance that you will develop changes in your breast tissue_ —and then he’d thrown his phone across his room, buried his face into his pillow, and screamed.

_If you make me grow my tits back, you stupid little baby, I’m gonna..._

Wait, no. He’d kick _Taejoon’s_ ass first. _Fuck you. Fuck you for making me have feelings for you._

Octavio had had to stop all physical activity for eight weeks after his top surgery. Eight. _Weeks_. If he had to go through all of that again then he would actually go fucking insane.

Friday morning he woke up not feeling as nervous. In fact, he woke up not feeling much of anything. He was just kind of numb.

Taejoon had been very patient with him these past few days, which he was honestly very surprised by. Yeah, his boyfriend was sweet, but he also had a bit of a temper, and normally they would’ve gotten into a couple of arguments by now. But this week had mostly been Octavio barking at him while Taejoon just sat there and took it, infuriatingly calm. It wasn’t any fun like that, nor was it satisfying to get angry with him. 

Octavio half-heartedly attempted to start a fight, making a snide comment under his breath when Taejoon asked if he wanted something for breakfast. When the other man didn’t acknowledge this comment he let his head fall onto Taejoon’s shoulder, defeated, before groaning out, “Yeah.”

Octavio got dressed after he left, his outfit consisting of the same pair of basketball shorts he’d had on for the past three days, and a loose t-shirt. Ninety-nine percent of Octavio’s shirts were crop-tops, but today he felt like everyone would be able to tell from one glance that he was...expecting.

Now paranoid, he turned to the side and lifted up his shirt slightly. Was he gaining weight yet? When would that start to happen? Was it him, or had he already put on a few pounds? No, that couldn't be right, he'd hardly eaten anything as of late...

He took off the body mods on his stomach, deciding that he wouldn’t be wearing them for a long time after today. There were slight indentations on his skin from where they used to reside, which made him glad that he was wearing a normal t-shirt to hide them.

Ugh, look at him. Wearing...shirts. What next, pants?

When Taejoon came back he had a box of donuts in hand, setting it down on Octavio's messy kitchen table, where they hardly ever ate at. His apartment wasn't really suitable for kids, if he was being honest.

“What’s the occasion?” Octavio drawled as he flipped the box open, squinting at the options laid out before him; glazed and maple. He decided that he would be nice to Taejoon. For now.

He watched the other man shake out his hands, a nervous habit he’d picked up on during their time together, before he finally answered,

“We should be able to see the baby today.”

“What makes you so sure?” He held up a maple donut to his face and gave it a sniff. Very sweet and warm. He didn’t know how foods could smell warm, but this one certainly did.

“I was just guessing based on when you might have...when we...”

Taejoon seemed to be struggling to find the right words, gnawing on his lip as he shook out his hands again before sticking them into his pockets. Octavio took a bite out of his donut and said around a mouthful,

“Pretty sure it was the hot-tub.”

Taejoon closed his eyes. “Right. The hot-tub.”

There was a pause.

“I think we should tell Witt,” Octavio said.

“ _No._ ”

Heh. He would’ve loved to see Elliott’s stupid face if they told him _hey we fucked in your hot-tub last Christmas, and now we’re_ —

Octavio stopped chewing his donut, suddenly unable to swallow around the lump in his throat.

Everyone else was going to have to find out about his situation eventually and why he quit the Games. He’d already gotten a few text messages about his absence this week, but since Taejoon and Loba both happened to be out too, everyone had assumed that he was just suffering from the bout of flu going around. Well, ‘going around’—only Loba had it, but the other Legends had guessed that they had it as well.

Man, that was gonna be a double bomb to drop. First, _hey Crypto and I are fucking, ahaha,_ and also _I got pregnant before I hit twenty-five and had to quit the Games and stim and..._

When his boyfriend wasn’t looking, he spit his food out into the trash and set his unfinished donut back inside the box. He didn’t feel like he could keep it down right now.

Close to noon Taejoon made him drink a couple of bottles of water, and then shortly after that they set out for the clinic. His boyfriend was wearing a light jacket, but Octavio was bundled up in a heavier coat. Partly because he’d been feeling very cold lately, and partly because he was still paranoid that people would be able to see the signs already.

Octavio knew that there were plenty of other guys out there like him, but he couldn’t shake off the association of pregnancy with...being a woman. And he was terrified that other people would look at him differently, make that subconscious connection in their minds even if they didn’t mean to. He was dreading the day where he wouldn't be able to hide it with a heavy coat. 

On the train ride he stood next to Taejoon and tried not to snub his nose too much at the overwhelming smell, and when they reached their stop he practically stumbled out onto the platform in his attempt to leave as soon as possible. He ran up the steps two at a time while Taejoon mumbled something that sounded like ‘slow down’, as Octavio bounced impatiently on his metal feet, waiting for him to catch up.

“Are you nervous?” Taejoon asked him as they walked down the street. Octavio had no idea where they were going and trusted the other man to lead the way.

“No,” he said, perhaps too quickly. “Why would I be?”

“You’ve had a rough week.”

“I wonder why that is,” he muttered, and when Taejoon’s mouth snapped shut he kind of felt bad. 

“...You could always go to that help group,” his boyfriend suggested as they rounded a corner, referring to a list of rehabilitation centers and support groups that Dr. Valencia had sent. Taejoon had researched them all late into the night and picked out the one that he thought would suit Octavio best, which was both sweet but also insulting. There was no fucking _way_ he’d ever go to a fucking _group_. Despite this situation, he still had his pride.

Octavio opened his mouth to argue, but Taejoon came to a sudden halt, and said,

“Here.”

The taller man held the clinic door open for him, which made him huff as he stomped through. It wasn’t that Taejoon had never done these sort of things for him before, but it just left a sour taste in his mouth now. _I can hold open doors for my fucking self._

The secretary made him fill out paperwork, which was excruciating, and he just kind of gave up halfway through, checking off whatever as he went down the page. He really had to pee, but was apparently not supposed to until after the ultrasound, so he just squirmed in his seat, uncomfortable, as they waited. He reached into his pocket for his lighter only to realize that he’d left it at home, and he let his head fall back and hit the wall with a thud.

A woman with a massive amount of curly, kinky hair stepped out from behind a door and called,

“Octavio?”

He practically jumped out of his seat, eager to get this over with. He was brimming with energy now, that nervous type that made him want to run around the block ten times over. Maybe he’d do just that after this was done.

The woman led them down a hallway, Octavio and Taejoon close behind, before she went into a room and flicked a lamp on—leaving the area lit, but also somewhat dark. She then turned on her heel, smiling at him with a warm look in her eyes.

“How are you, Octavio?” She asked as if they were old friends, and he squinted at the nametag on her purple scrubs. _Louis_. “I’m Dr. Louis, but you can call me Farah.”

“Uh, I'm good,” he mumbled, not really wanting to make small-talk. 

“I’m glad to hear that,” she said in an almost motherly way. It sort of helped with his nerves, but he was still restless, wanting to get on with it. Farah turned her smiled to Taejoon. “And you?”

“I’m his partner,” Taejoon introduced himself. “Hyeon.”

“Nice to meet you, Hyeon. Now, Dr. Valencia has already forwarded me your medical records—I understand there’s some concerns for prenatal complications and issues with your baby...” She began to talk to him about a lot of things that Dr. Valencia had said, and he was not following along at _all_ , but thankfully Taejoon was nodding at her every other word.

“So one of our goals today will be making sure that your baby is healthy and everything is as it should be,” Farah finally said, and Octavio stopped zoning out. “Any questions?”

“Is it gonna hurt,” he asked, but it came out rather flat as he focused on not having his voice crack.

“Not at all. I have jelly here that I’m going to spread on your stomach, and then this—” She held up an object that kind of resembled a bigger version of whatever those hell machines were that dentists used. “—will help us to see the baby. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“And do you want Hyeon to stay here with you?”

He nodded, and Taejoon touched him gently on his waist, which made him flinch. Octavio was directed to sit back on a half-chair half-bed thing that he never really knew the name of, and then rolled up his shirt, revealing his stomach and the slight indentations on it from his body mods.

Farah didn’t say anything about them as she tugged the waistband of his shorts down slightly, which made him really uncomfortable, squeezing his legs together and stomach jerking because he was ticklish right there. He was afraid for a moment that she would pull them down _too_ low, but that soon became the least of his concerns as he felt something cold and wet on his lower abdomen.

“Fuck-” he gasped, and then flushed red when Farah glanced up at him. “It’s—”

“Cold, I know,” she said around a light laugh. Octavio felt very exposed, though the dim lighting of the room helped calm him. He glanced up towards Taejoon, who was staring at his stomach, eyes glazed over.

“Earth to Crypto,” he said, because he always used that name outside of the house. He’d almost accidentally said ‘ _Taejoon_ ’ several times when he meant to say ‘ _Hyeon_ ’—it was much easier to say ‘ _Crypto_ ’. Easier for him to draw a distinction between stage names and real names. Taejoon had a stage name and a fake real name and a real name. It was a bit too much for him to keep track of.

Taejoon blinked at those words, and then looked at him. 

“What are you thinking?” Octavio asked, and Taejoon just shrugged wordlessly. Okay, so he was being like _that_ right now. Fucker.

Farah had been getting a weird monitor-thing set up, but now she seemed ready as a gloved hand held out that weird wand towards him. “I’m going to run this over your belly, okay?”

“‘Kay.”

Octavio tried to make sense of what was going on onscreen as Farah ran the wand smoothly over his slick skin, a mass of black and white and gray. She would occasionally stop and freeze the screen, zooming in on places, before resuming movement of the wand, sometimes pressing down a little more on his stomach. At one point his thigh jerked involuntarily as she got too close to a particularly ticklish area, but thankfully she didn't comment on it.

Finally, Farah came to a halt and said,

“There they are.”

Octavio had no fucking idea what he was supposed to be looking at as she pressed down on his skin a little more. It just looked like the same black and white noisy mess it’d been so far, but she paused the screen again and then pointed her finger at a white blob.

“Here’s their head,” she said, and he squinted. He felt like he was trying to look at one of those inkblot optical illusions. He _knew_ it was supposed to be something, but he couldn’t make sense of what it was supposed to be.

She moved her finger again. “And here—legs, do you see that?”

“No,” Octavio said at the same time that Taejoon said “yes.”

“Here, let me try this.” She unfroze the screen and moved her wand a little bit more, the contrasting colors starting to give Octavio a headache before she paused again. This time, when she pointed it out, he could clearly see what she was referring to.

“Your baby’s head and legs, and here—these bumps are probably their arms.” Farah was smiling wide, even though she must have done this ordeal a thousand times. “From what I can tell, everything looks normal. I’d say you’re about ten weeks along. Ten weeks and five days.”

“Is that it?” Octavio asked, staring with wide eyes at the screen. Uncomprehending. _That_ was inside him?

His heart had picked up nervously in his chest as his eyes flickered from the screen to his stomach, trying to picture a whole-ass baby in there. With a head and arms and legs. That _thing_ was inside him right now, and as Farah unfroze the screen he let out an involuntary nervous whine as the thing _moved._ Just slight movement, but it was still _there._

“At this stage I can see your baby’s organs, so I’m going to grab a few more pictures to make sure everything’s running smoothly.” Farah flipped a switch on the monitor, and pressed down on his stomach a little more. “We’re going to see their heartbeat, okay? I have to make sure everything is normal.”

If she said the word ‘ _okay_ ’ one more time he was going to freak out because everything was, at that moment, _not_ okay. 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Taejoon reach for his free hand, and then their fingers were intertwined. Octavio looked up at his boyfriend, who was staring at the screen with wide eyes, as if seeing something fantastical and surreal. Octavio wasn’t sure about the fantastical part, but it definitely felt surreal.

He had a headache, and he could hardly see what Farah was referring to when she pointed out the baby’s heartbeat. She said it was normal, which was good, and she was going to get a few more pictures and blah blah. Octavio hardly noticed when she finally wiped away the gel from his stomach with a sanitizing wipe, telling him that they would get back to him in a few days with their findings.

“Now, if you two schedule another appointment here in a couple of weeks, we’ll be able to check up on your baby’s health as well as tell their gender. Would you like that?”

“No,” Octavio said right as Taejoon opened his mouth, and the other man gave him a weird look. “I don’t—I don’t want to—”

He couldn’t get more than a couple of words out, overwhelmed by everything. Farah said that if they waited in the lobby for a couple of minutes she would bring them pictures from the scan, so Taejoon sat in a chair while Octavio paced back and forth, trying not to freak the fuck out.

He’d thought he’d come to terms with it last week, that saying those words had been when reality had set in—but seeing the baby, seeing it while it was inside him and knowing that it had a heartbeat and _organs_ and all that in him was fucking terrifying. He paused at one point with wide eyes, pressing his hands to his stomach as if he’d be able to feel it through his skin, but there was nothing different there. 

“Octavio,” Taejoon said after this had gone on for about five minutes. “Calm down.”

Octavio shot him a glare, but quickly melted when he saw this boyfriend’s face. Still that wide-eyed look, almost as if he were hopeful. Right, he was doing this for Taejoon.

_For Taejoon..._

He plopped down onto the seat beside him, leaning forward as his leg jittered. They were quiet for exactly ten seconds before the other asked,

“Why don’t you want to do another appointment?”

“‘Cuz I don’t need to know,” Octavio murmured, which was half the truth. The other half was that if he saw the baby again he’d actually have a meltdown. “You really wanna put gender expectations on a fetus?”

He’d meant that last part as a joke, but Taejoon pursed his lips and said apologetically, “Sorry.”

All of his freaking out had driven the fact that he needed to pee out of his mind, but now that he was sitting down again his discomfort returned. He left to find a bathroom, and by the time he came back Taejoon was holding two copies of the ultrasound pictures in his hand.

They stepped outside into the chilly air, Octavio clutching Taejoon’s hand, needing _some_ form of comfort after what had just happened. Taejoon was looking towards the café next to them, and asked him,

"Italian?"

"Since when have I _ever_ liked Italian?"

"Right." His boyfriend squeezed his hand, and Octavio looked down at where their fingers were intertwined, that warm feeling that was slowly becoming familiar making its return, even amidst his sudden nausea. Taejoon then pointed at a Mexican restaurant across the street, and asked him with a little bit of humor in his voice,

“Want enchiladas?”

“ _Now_ you’re speakin’ my language,” Octavio said, words coming out quick and tumbling into each other as he tugged the taller man towards the entrance. He didn't care if he was going to throw it up later. He just needed to focus on something that _wasn't_ the fact that he was pregnant.

* * *

On Sunday he knocked on Ajay’s door, bouncing from foot-to-foot as he held his copy of his ultrasound picture in hand. He hadn’t told her about this whole _thing_ yet, even though she was his best friend—honestly, that status was exactly _why_ he was afraid to tell her. 

Ajay knew him better than anyone, and would be sure to pick up on the fact that he maybe didn't really want this kid...but would she be able to tell his reason for keeping it? The Octavio she knows doesn't fall in love. Then again, the Octavio she knows also doesn't cry whenever the dog dies in movies, so he was pretty good at hiding things from her.

Taejoon had gone back to his own apartment last night, apparently wanting to talk to his mom-caretaker-thing today about the whole situation too. _Without_ Octavio.

Octavio wondered if he had told her the truth, or at least a part of it at any time during their relationship. If not, that would be a lot of news to drop at once; _hey, mom, I’m about to be a dad and the other dad is that crazy daredevil on TV with no legs and severe ADHD. Surprise!_

Honestly, if he were Taejoon, he would just lie and say that he knocked up some nice girl who worked an office job. That would definitely need a lot less explaining.

When Ajay finally answered the door her eyes widened when she saw him, and she physically recoiled.

"You’re not still sick, are ya? ‘Cause I haven’t had time to get my flu shot yet and-”

“I don’t have the flu, Che, now let me in,” he said, and then pushed past her without waiting for a proper invitation. Ajay sighed, sounding annoyed as she shut the door behind him.

“Where you been, O? Worried sick about ya." She squinted at him, looking him up and down with suspicion. "Speakin' of sick, where _were_ you if you didn't have the flu? You _never_ take time off...surprisingly.”

He’d been practicing the words in his head for the past thirty minutes, not wanting a repeat of last week where he’d stuttered through the facts, trying to avoid having to say it out loud. He would get this over with quickly, show her the pic, then be on his way so that he could run a good five miles to make himself feel better! That was the plan. Octavio was great at following plans!

(He was not.)

He took a deep breath, trying not to meet her eyes, and without preamble said, “I’m pregnant.”

Ajay just looked unimpressed. “Yeah, sure. What’s the deal?”

“No, Che,” he groaned, and practically shoved the picture into her face, which she took from him to stare at. “I’m _pregnant_.”

There was a very long pause as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing. Then, Ajay turned her back on him and stalked over to the fridge, where she threw it open and pulled out what looked like a Margarita in a plastic to-go cup. Octavio waited for her as she took a couple of sips from it, her fingers tapping on top of the fridge door, before she finally looked back at him and squawked,

“And you’re _keeping_ it?”

He nodded, and Ajay approached him so quickly that he stumbled back a little, eyes wide, before she was taking his face into her hands and forcibly twisting him around.

“Yo, chica, what’re you—”

“Makin’ sure you didn’t hit your damn _head_ ,” Ajay hissed, before spinning him around again so that he was facing her. She placed her hands on his shoulders, eyes narrowed. “Silva. I need you to be straight with me.”

“Okay.”

“You got a baby?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re keeping it?”

“Yup.”

“And this ain’t a joke?”

“It’s not.”

“Where’s your stim?”

“Destroyed.”

She squinted at him even more, and he threw his hands up. “No, for real, it’s gone!"

"And what are you doing in place of it? Your ADHD meds? You gonna tell me something crazy like you're goin' to rehab?"

"No way," he said. "But Tae—”

He snapped his mouth shut, full of dread as her nostrils flared. She scrutinized him, as if trying to read his mind, and he hoped that she hadn't heard him let out that last part.

“What’d you say?” She asked, and _f_ _uck_ , he’d meant to tell her that he was dating Taejoon now but he hadn’t meant to nearly let his fucking name slip! Octavio glanced around, trying to think of what to say to stall for time, but he knew it was no good.

He groaned, before just straight up admitting,

“It’s Crypto’s.”

Ajay let her hands drop down to her sides.

“He destroyed my stim, wants me to go to a group, all that stuff. And, uh—we’ve been kind of a thing since, like, last June.” 

Ajay walked back to her fridge again, feet dragging across the floor.

“But not _dating_ since last June, just kind of a friends-with-benefits thing, but during Christmas we fuckin’ uhhhhh...uhhhh...did some stuff and we’re together now. For real.”

She opened the door and took out her Margarita again.

“And I’m ten weeks—actually, now it’s eleven—eleven weeks along."

Tipping the cup all the way, Ajay drained the rest of her drink in one go without pause.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry if it feels like i yadda-yadda'd some stuff everything to do w drugs makes me uncomfortable but i felt like i couldnt just Disregard that aspect of octavio so u have me forcing myself to write it all. ahahaha. cringe
> 
> anyways tysm for the support so far !!!! im rly glad u guys like it cuz i was super nervous. ive still gotten some tumblr hate for this fic but i appreciate all of u saying nice things. mwah! >3<


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ehehehe so this chap is a lil more time-skippy but not by much i think. also this fic addresses the fact that ? mila is like Alive but since that plot point never rly went anywhere in s5 i kind of left it vague so AMSIAJSIS

_Taejoon breathed in as he looked down the scope of his Sentinel. He had Nox in his sights, and a buzz beneath his skin that made him want to do something rash. He knew that he probably shouldn’t fire at them from this particular spot, stuck in a car above Train Yard where his only way out was either by moving in a predictable manner across a zipline or falling straight down into an area that could be trapped. He knew he shouldn’t risk it, and yet..._

_“Just fire already!” Octavio groaned, nudging the side of Taejoon’s head lightly with his Prowler, which made him want to not do it. Anything Octavio wanted had bad idea written all over it, but Nox was still engaged in a back-and-forth argument with Natalie, which only tempted Taejoon’s finger to feather the trigger, so close to pressing down on it..._

_“The anticipation is killing me. Just shoot the dude, cariño." Octavio's voice suddenly went from whiny to flirty. "You know, you’re hot when you kill things.”_

_“Octane,” Taejoon said bluntly, not sparing him a glance. “Shut up.”_

_“Nah. That's no fun. But this is." Octavio was now wrapping his arms around Taejoon’s neck, and he felt his breath hitch at this contact. It was sometime in August, and this arrangement between them was getting to be...concerning. Dangerous._

_His heartbeat often rose to higher speeds whenever the other man got too close, and he knew that he could feel it, which would only encourage him to keep doing stuff like this. He knew he needed to put a stop to this relationship before it was too late, but the words never came to him—so he settled for simply trying to shrug him off of him, telling him in an undertone,_

_“Off. We’re in the middle of a match.”_

_“You’re no fun. Lighten up, amigo, first you don’t wanna pull the trigger and now you don’t wanna get it on with me? What’re you here for, then? Some fresh air?” Octavio poked at his cheek. “Kill_ him _or fuck_ me _. Easy choice!”_

_“I am not killing him because we are in a bad spot,” Taejoon grumbled in irritation. “And I am not fucking you because we are in a bad spot.”_

_“Then let’s move to a better spot!” Octavio said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world._

_"It's dangerous."_

_"Eh, we've done waaaay worse stuff. C'mon, I wanna kiss you."_

_“You do realize that not everyone has to adhere to your every whim, right?” Taejoon snapped at him, finally dropping his gun and turning to glare at the other, but he froze for a second. The younger man had taken off his mask, goggles pushed up onto his head and pretty eyes staring right at Taejoon. That pause gave Octavio enough time to shove Taejoon over so that his back was against the floor of the car, and Octavio was climbing on top of him._

_“Yeah, I know.” Octavio said, and Taejoon’s hands instantly jumped to his hips, not putting up any sort of fight as he let the man straddle him. Out of the corner of his eye, through the small door at the side of the car, he could see Nox and Natalie running away from something. "It's fun to annoy people, though."_

_He was then leaning down, close to his face, and Taejoon knew that despite his earlier protest that this spot, this car above Train Yard, was nowhere near a broadcasting drone. His hands slid almost involuntarily onto Octavio's thighs, and the younger man seemed to take this as encouragement to continue._

_"Besides," he said, sliding his fingers through Taejoon's hair. He swore he could hear another squad running below them, but Octavio didn't budge. “I always end up getting what I want.”_

* * *

Taejoon was concerned.

Nervous. Worried. Still happy, still riding on a little high that had yet to fade away, but ultimately concerned. 

Octavio was...

He didn’t know how to describe it. Octavio had told him several times that he did want to keep this kid and stay with Taejoon, but he was paranoid that this was not quite the truth. It just seemed uncharacteristic of him to be willing to give up everything that he enjoyed for something like this, something that practically guaranteed he could never go back to doing any of it even after everything was 'over'.

He’d spent the past couple of weeks thinking about it during every match, lost in thought as he tried to convince himself to _calm down,_ that he was making it all up in his head and worrying for no reason. Where was this paranoia coming from? Octavio was headstrong and bratty, assertive. There was no way that he would ever agree to something that he _didn’t_ want.

In fact, Taejoon was sure that Octavio would be fighting tooth and nail to get rid of the kid if that’s what he wanted, and Taejoon would’ve let him.

He just didn’t know how to drop that fact without making things awkward.

Yes, he was sure that Octavio did want the kid—why would he give up so much if he didn’t?—but he still wanted to let the other know that... _if you wanted to...perhaps, if you weren’t ready...then I would understand._

But he didn’t know how to just suddenly drop that into a conversation, and he didn’t want to piss Octavio off, because Octavio had been very snappy towards him lately; mood swings from a mixture of withdrawal and the fact that he was just now entering his second trimester at fourteen weeks. 

The beginning of Octavio’s break from the Apex Games wasn't too bad. As far as he knew, all his boyfriend did at first was film up to five videos a day to periodically release over the course of the next few months, not wanting to stream anything when the signs of his pregnancy were more noticeable to viewers. But then he ran out of ideas and got bored of it, and when Taejoon had come over last weekend he was just lying around in a bad mood because he had nothing else to do.

He was at least happy that Octavio hadn’t relapsed back into any of his bad habits with stim, but he was still consuming a lot of caffeine, which they’d have to regulate sooner or later. Not only that, but Octavio was spending a lot of his saved-up money on things like video games and snacks in order to keep himself occupied, and Taejoon was _also_ concerned about that.

Octavio was out of a job now. He still got revenue from streaming, but his main source of income was gone now, and his rent would be tougher to pay. They lived separately and Taejoon had his own rent to pay, so he couldn’t chip in with Octavio’s much, but he did try to help, though he was sure that something could make this all a little easier.

Octavio seemed hellbent on _not_ taking money out of his trust fund, said he didn't want his father to 'notice', which had never really bothered his boyfriend before now. He was planning to ask him about it when he came over today—he had a theory as to why—but first he had to deal with...

“How is everything?” Natalie asked him sweetly as she adjusted her Peacekeeper, her voice thankfully low so that their teammate, Wraith, wouldn’t hear them. 

“Fine,” Taejoon mumbled, polishing a scuffed mark on his drone with his sleeve. “He’s...fine.”

“Everyone keeps asking about him. Do you plan to tell them the truth?”

“No,” he replied bluntly. “It’s none of their business.”

“I understand.” She giggled, twiddling her thumbs together. He looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to say whatever was on her mind, before she placed her palms on her cheeks and admitted, “This whole situation got me thinking and...I even asked Ramya if she wanted to have a baby!"

_Oh no._

“What’d she say,” he asked warily, because the thought of she _and_ Octavio having kids at the same time was terrifying.

“Well, she got very offended and held up her gun and asked, _‘is Sheila not good enough?’_ So I think the answer is no...”

“Right.” He tried to force himself to stop sounding so flat, and smiled a little at her, trying to sound a little lighter. “She’s too wild to settle down just yet, anyways.”

“That’s what I thought about Octavio!” Natalie said with wide, earnest eyes. “He’s too... _Octavio_ to ever do such a thing, I thought—but non. He really loves you.”

Taejoon frowned at these words, not sure why they struck such a dissonant chord with him, but by this point Wraith was coolly declaring that they were being watched and they were soon engaged in a fire fight. They ended up winning the game, and Natalie hugged him before wiggling her fingers in goodbye to him and wandering off to go talk with Horizon.

Ah, Horizon. He knew that she had been a mother at some point in time, and he had kept meaning to ask her some questions in order to be more understanding of what Octavio was going through, but he didn’t know how to ask her without having to divulge the fact that Octavio was pregnant. As the newest Legend she hadn’t really gotten to know him all that well before he left, however, so maybe she wouldn’t particularly care if she found out...

“Earth to Cryppy,” he heard from beside him, and he glared as Witt approached him with an annoying bounce in his step. “It’s after hours on a Friday, what are you still doing here? Hoping to catch _them_?”

“I was just leaving,” Taejoon said shortly, shoving his puzzle cube into his pocket. “And you? Do you not have a second job to currently attend to right now?”

“Hey, my party boat’s business is doing _great_!” Witt cried out defensively.

“The fact that you need to operate it as a business at all is telling,” Taejoon said, and Elliott started sputtering as he tried to think of a comeback. “Hope you can pull yourself out of debt, Witt.”

And with that he left the idiot behind.

He overheard a conversation as he passed by Ajay and Makoa:

“Got any plans, Gibby?”

“Yup! Seeing a lil’ something special tonight. You?”

“Goin’ home, but tomorrow I gotta check on that idiot Silva to see how he’s doin’.”

“He’s really serious about that break, then?”

“‘Course he is,” she said, and he felt like he could feel her eyes on the back of his head. “He said it was real important to him.”

Taejoon took the flying shuttle down to the urban area that resided beneath the floating city of Olympus, where most of the Legends were staying for the time being—unless they were weird like Bloodhound and chose to make the jump back to Talos every Friday night. This urban area was named Athens, but many of its residents still referred to it as ‘ _Olympus_ ’, unable to break away from their ties to the city and the loss of their home. He supposed he couldn't blame them. He missed Suotamo.

Octavio’s apartment wasn’t anything special, but it was on the nicer side of town. Well, everything here would be considered ‘ _the nice part_ ’ of any city, but this side was especially nice. It was similar to the Olympus above but different—modernized, but not in the rounded, comfy, suburban-esque sense that their new arena was. Down here it was slicker, more glass skyscrapers and impossible statues and moving parts. Floating trains and sleek subways beneath a shiny surface.

Athens was a very clean place, a stark contrast to his home on Gaea, and he liked to take walks down the spotless sidewalks that almost looked artificial with how clean and smooth they were. He didn’t have much time for lollygagging today, though—he wanted to check up on Octavio as quickly as possible.

He got off the shuttle and turned on his phone, waiting for it to boot up so he could tell his boyfriend that he was on his way, but when it was finally on he noticed that he had a bunch of messages from him on their chat app.

_Octavio: i assume ur on ur way_

_Octavio: can u get me fries and a shake_

_Octavio: plzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz_

_Octavio: ill give u a kiss or smth_

_Octavio: hello_

_Octavio: fine. a blowjob_

_Octavio: THAT DIDN’T WORK!??!!?!?!?_

_Octavio: WHO ARE U AND WHAT HAVE U DONE W MY BOYFRIEND?_

_Me: my phone was off._

_Octavio: oh that makes more sense_

_Octavio: fries and shake_

_Me: what do you say when you want something?_

_Octavio: pwease_

_Me: don’t start that again._

_Octavio: LET ME B GAY_

_Octavio: also i want vanilla_

Taejoon stopped at some famous burger chain restaurant to order Octavio a big carton of thick-cut fries and a vanilla milkshake that they claimed wouldn't melt, not even in the hot sun. He considered ordering himself food as well, but...ah, he had planned on giving Octavio some money for his rent this week. He could eat at home later.

When he finally came into the other's apartment about fifteen minutes later, he was attacked at the front door, yelping as Octavio threw himself at him and wrapped his arms around his middle.

“Have I ever told you that I love you, amor? Because I do. I love you.” Octavio plucked the milkshake and fries from his hands without further comment and wandered back into the living room, which was very messy. His wheelchair was on its side and the aftermath of an arts-and-crafts explosion littered the table. The mess of it all truly hammered it home that his apartment was _not_ fit for children.

Taejoon noticed the glue gun hanging haphazardly from the back of the couch, and raised his eyebrows in question.

“What were you _doing_?”

“Bedazzling my chair,” Octavio said, dipping a fry into his milkshake. “It looked so _boring_.”

Octavio had told him that during his last check-up his doctor had said to keep his wheelchair on hand in case his stumps ever got irritated from the new stress upon his back. He’d sounded annoyed by this fact, so Taejoon was glad to see that he at least still had the thing and it hadn’t been destroyed. Even if it looked like _that._

Taejoon glanced over at his boyfriend for the first time in about a week, eyes immediately drawn to his stomach. He’d taken to looking at it every so often to see if he could spot the changes there; it was definitely more noticeable, but it looked more like natural weight-gain than a baby bump specifically. It could be easily hidden by adjusting the waistband of his shorts and wearing a loose t-shirt, but today Octavio was sporting a crop-top, so his torso was on display.

Taejoon thought about asking Octavio if he wanted to go out and buy clothes that would fit him later on down the line, but decided not to at the moment. Octavio seemed to be in a good mood today, and he didn’t want to bring it down by reminding him of the fact that he was starting to gain weight.

“How is everything?” He asked his boyfriend quietly, and Octavio just shrugged, still eating milkshake-covered fries, which made Taejoon’s stomach squirm at the thought of how soggy they must be. He couldn't even blame it on strange pregnancy cravings; Octavio liked them even _before_ all this, like some kind of maniac.

“Fine. Bored all day. Don’t have anything to do.”

The last part had a note of bitterness tinging it, and he was reminded of his earlier doubts and paranoia regarding this whole situation. He placed his fingers on Octavio’s jaw and made him look up at him, trying to read his expression, but he smiled wide like nothing was wrong.

“Octavio,” Taejoon began, but the other man pushed away from him and instead gestured to his wheelchair, which was covered in glitter and spray-painted flames. 

“Ta-da!” He said, so enthusiastic that Taejoon's worries waned. "I'm trying to put LED lights in the wheels, but I ran out of glue. You dig it?"

Taejoon couldn’t help it. He gave a smile at how ridiculous and _Octavio_ the chair looked now.

"I dig it."

Octavio kept dipping his fries into his drink as he paced back and forth, restless and clearly full of energy that he was putting forth into rambling about whatever. Taejoon watched him go back and forth, though his mind soon became preoccupied with the video call he’d had with Mystik weeks ago.

She’d been wary at first as he gave his news, her brow furrowed as she proceeded to give him a stern talking-to about responsibility—but then her face had softened considerably and she congratulated him, telling him that she’d have to come visit him some day and ' _get a good look at the brat_ '. 

He was glad to hear that. He missed her, and she was pretty good at dodging security and staying hidden, so he wasn't _too_ worried about her getting caught visiting him—and he was sure that she would pass this news on to Mila, as Taejoon was still too paranoid to contact her on his own yet lest the Syndicate found out, somehow.

There was just one tiny problem.

He hadn’t told her that Octavio was the father yet.

He didn’t know why. He’d meant to, but he'd just...ended up not saying anything about it. Hadn't gone into detail, just said that it was someone he’d been seeing for a while, and miraculously she had been so caught up in her surprise that she hadn’t taken the time to ask him the specifics of _who_. Taejoon was sure that she would’ve berated him if she found out that it was one of the other Legends. After all, he was here to take them down and clear his name. Getting so involved with one of them was...

Was....

“Earth to ‘Joon,” his boyfriend said, and he blinked out of his stupor. Octavio was bent down in front of him, hip cocked out at a dramatic angle as he stared at him. “Do you know what today is?”

“...No?” He answered, wary, and Octavio grinned.

“It’s my birthday."

It took Taejoon a moment to process those words, but when he finally did he immediately started apologizing. "Mianhe, I forgot."

"It's cool, but today we do what _I_ want. And _I_ wanna see a bike show.” 

"I really—I didn't mean to—"

“You can make it up to me by getting your slow butt _up_ , compadre! It starts in an hour, c’mon, let’s go! Rápido!”

This erratic, hard-to-keep-up-with energy was so Octavio-like that he didn’t even put up a fight, just let himself be pulled from the couch as Octavio threw on a jacket and zipped it up to hide his bare stomach from view. He had to remind Octavio to lock the apartment door since his boyfriend was so eager to get going, and he was met with a groan of ‘ _lame_ ’ as he stopped to do just that.

"Are you sure you want to take me?" Taejoon asked as Octavio started tugging on his hand. "I don't know anything about bikes."

"Well, Che's busy tonight and Ramya's doing something with Nat, and _she_ doesn't like noise, so." Octavio grinned. "Guess I'm stuck with you."

"I feel appreciated," Taejoon said.

"Hey, _you_ were the one who forgot that today was my birthday."

"...Fair."

There was a stadium not even a mile away from Octavio’s apartment that the bike show was being held at, dozens of motorcycles of all shapes and sizes being flaunted by their owners as they approached. Some huge and bulky, others sleek and refined, some with decals and accents and others that only had shiny, perfect color. Apparently there was going to be some sort of auction in addition to a race and other things—things Taejoon wouldn’t _pretend_ to be interested in, but it was Octavio’s birthday, so he would put up with it.

He still felt slightly guilty for forgetting that it was today, so he was going to offer to pay for the tickets—until he saw the prices and balked.

“Don’t worry, I know the guy who runs this thing,” Octavio said, pulling him away from the ticket line and showing the screen of his phone to an usher. “And he knows it’s my birthday, so I got tickets for free. Cool, huh? That’s cuz we’re on _my_ home planet now."

"Didn't you tell me that you were banned from half the places on Olympus," Taejoon asked dryly.

"Yeah, but the lifetime bans don't carry on down here. _Suckers."_

The stadium had clean, elevated seats that were spaced far apart enough that one could even recline in them. The guardrails were shiny and gold-colored. Jumbo-screens advertising a variety of products gave the place a unique glow. Food vendors sold the usual, like corndogs and popcorn, but also stuff like caviar. Taejoon felt _very_ out of place here.

He was just about to ask when exactly the show started when he heard a loud, familiar voice boom,

“Hey, brothas!”

 _Oh no_ , he thought to himself. 

He instantly jumped away from Octavio, trying to put some distance between them as he whirled around to see Makoa ambling towards them, his face lit up like the sun itself. He was always so damn happy, and though normally this trait of his brought a small amount of ease to Taejoon, now he was stuck in fight-or-flight mode, eyes darting around and looking for a quick escape.

“Whatcha guys up to? Seein’ the show too?” Makoa laughed as he stood beside them, clapping Taejoon on his back and making that area sting a little. “Hey, little guy, how have you been?”

 _‘Little guy’_ being Makoa’s nickname for Octavio—who was staring up at him with wide eyes, frozen in place, but as soon as he was addressed he smiled big and crossed his arms over his chest, almost as if he were shielding himself from his view. Almost as if he were trying to hide the barely-perceptible area of his middle.

“Eh, still gettin’ up to trouble,” Octavio lied easily, not a single stutter in his voice, and Taejoon was almost impressed with that ability. “My streaming career is really starting to take off."

"That so? Heard that's the reason you went on break."

"I don’t wanna give my fans the same old boring content of the Games all the time! I’ve gotta get creative, yanno?” Octavio gestured to the stadium around them. "I should definitely host one _here._ "

“Should’ve known you’d be here! Bike show in your hometown...or something close to it. Good to see ya, brotha.” Makoa smiled warmly at Octavio, before his gaze turned to Taejoon and he felt put on the spot. “And Hyeon! I didn’t know you two knew each other.”

“We’re drinking buddies,” Taejoon mumbled quietly, mind frantically trying to come up with a believable lie. “And I like. Bikes. So he invited me.”

“Really?” Makoa asked, suddenly sounding more interested. “What’s your favorite model?”

“Um.”

“‘Koa, guess what,” Octavio butted in, saving him from having to answer. “It’s my birthday!”

The two kept talking back-and-forth for a bit while Taejoon tried to edge away from them, trying not to look as if he were closely associated with Octavio. A few people knew of their relationship at this point, and he trusted Makoa, but he wasn’t sure if Octavio wanted to reveal that news to anyone outside of who he considered to be his best friends yet.

Finally, Makoa was waving goodbye to the both of them before walking off to go find his own seat, while Octavio led Taejoon close to the front row. The very front row seats were partitioned off, though he wasn’t sure why—but Octavio leaped over the little blockade anyway, planting his butt in one of the comfy-looking reclining stadium seats. _Rich people_.

“So I assume we’re not letting anyone know for a while?” Taejoon asked quietly as he sat down next to Octavio, and he could’ve sworn that something changed in the other’s face at these words—but it went back to normal so quickly that he was sure that he had imagined it.

“No,” he said, turning to look at him. “I don’t want anyone to know. They’re just—they’re gonna look at me different if I tell them. I don't wanna deal with that.”

“I’m sure that they will all—”

“ _No,_ ” Octavio snapped, and Taejoon's mouth snapped shut. He hadn’t meant to make him upset, just wanted to assure him that the others would treat him the same; he knew that Octavio felt some dysphoria over this whole situation, and he’d just wanted to alleviate some of that anxiety, but evidently hadn't approached it in the right way.

Octavio was chewing on the inside of his cheek as he stared down at the tracks, before his lips turned up into a smile again and he said to Taejoon, “I haven’t been to one of these since I was a kid.”

“Yeah?” He asked, because even if he wasn’t interested he felt bad for steering the conversation into an uncomfortable direction. 

“I used to go to them more often,” Octavio explained, leaning forward in his seat to rest his forearms on the golden rail. Up ahead, Taejoon could see six or so people wheeling their dirtbikes onto the tracks. “I was like, eleven. My dad would just give me tickets and tell me to stay here all day. Free babysitting from the security guards and I was too entertained to cause any trouble.”

"That sounds...irresponsible," Taejoon said, to put it lightly.

"Better than creating havoc in his office, probably. He never liked having to _parent_ me. I was fine with that."

His leg was bouncing, a tic of his that Taejoon was familiar with. He didn't know how to respond to this new information, so he let the other continue.

“Then I got banned when I was thirteen because I tried to steal one of the bikes, but—”

Taejoon let out an unexpected snort. “You _what_?”

“Man, that was one of the only times I felt glad that my dad is who he is,” Octavio laughed, eyes alight with a memory. “The lady who owned the show at the time? _Scary_. She was yelling at me and telling me I was gonna spend the rest of my life in prison or whatever, ‘till my dad came to pick me up. Che thinks I could’ve gotten away with it if I hadn’t spray-painted my name on the dude’s parking spot.”

“Why would you tag the scene of a crime?”

“All the cool guys on TV do it!”

The talk about Octavio’s father had reminded him of one of the things he had meant to ask earlier, so he might as well address it while they were on the subject. Taejoon leaned forward as well, keeping his gaze on his boyfriend, who was still watching the racers set up. 

“Your father—”

“What about him,” Octavio asked immediately, not letting him finish his sentence.

“Are you going to tell him?”

“No.” Abrupt, with no elaboration. 

“...Is that why you’re afraid to take money out from your-?”

“I’m not _afraid_ of anything,” Octavio said defensively, eyes narrowing and shooting him a look. “Seriously, can we _stop_ talking about this?”

Taejoon sat back in silence as the show got started, the announcer going through a list of things he had no interest in like the racers’ names and what tricks they were known for, the models of the motorcycles they would be auctioning, and other sporty things that Octavio would probably go nuts over.

At one point he got up to get a bucket of popcorn and offered to share it with his boyfriend, who smiled at him like nothing had happened and grabbed a handful. Eventually Taejoon got past the awkward air that had settled over them and was just content to watch Octavio bounce in his seat before he quickly grew tired of sitting still and jumped to his feet instead, clinging to the guardrail as he shouted or jeered for whoever was leading the race at the time.

This went on for some time. There were apparently multiple rounds of racers going through a bracket system, though they all started to blend together into one one incomprehensible blur in Taejoon’s mind. He was, however, particularly entertained by a woman who had poked a hole into the back of her helmet so that her ponytail could stick out.

An hour into the show they announced a restroom break, and he looked over at Octavio to ask if he wanted something to drink, but paused when he noticed that particular downturn at the corners of his mouth that usually indicated that he was tired.

“Are you alright?” He asked, and Octavio said,

“Yeah. Just...”

“Tired?”

The other man turned to look at him. “How’d you know?”

“I can just tell.”

Octavio stared at him with wide eyes, lips parted slightly in surprise, before he groaned and sat back in his chair, reclining it a little in order to stare up at the sky dramatically.

“I keep getting tired randomly. Like I went to bed at ten o’clock last night, Crypto. _Ten_. _O’clock_.”

“You’re in your...” he wondered if he should say the words ‘ _second trimester_ ’ out loud, before deciding not to. “Fatigue is a symptom you’re going to experience.”

Octavio’s eyes did have darker bags beneath them than usual, but Taejoon had chalked it up to him maybe playing video games all night since he had nothing else to do now. He placed his hand on Octavio’s lap briefly, trying to comfort him, before he remembered that they were in public and let it drop back to his side.

“Do you want to go home?”

“No way,” Octavio said, but then paused. “Actually, it’s boring when I’m tired, ‘cuz then I don’t want to stand up.”

“...Is that a yes?”

Octavio groaned dramatically again. “Sí.”

They got up from their seats and left, Taejoon with his hands buried in his pockets and Octavio typing something on his phone—though about two blocks away from the stadium he suddenly said,

“Carry me.”

Taejoon stared at him.

“C’mon, bend your knees. I’m tired.”

“You have metal legs.”

“And? I’m _tired_.”

Taejoon sighed, glancing around to make sure that they weren’t blocking the sidewalk, before bending at the knee and allowing Octavio to clamber onto his back. When he straightened up he adjusted his grip on the other’s thighs and started walking back to his apartment. Octavio was surprisingly light, what with, you know, the metal legs and being pregnant and all.

He felt his face flush slightly as Octavio suddenly wrapped his arms around his neck and pressed a kiss to his ear.

“Not out here,” he said quietly, and Octavio laughed close to him—that real, genuine laugh he felt like he hadn’t heard in a while.

“But don’t you know, cariño?” Octavio asked as he kissed him again, this time on his jaw, then on his cheek. “I usually get what I want, and today I’m the birthday boy.”

Taejoon let him get away with this for a few more blocks, allowing his boyfriend to kiss him all over—there weren’t very many people around, anyways, and the few that shuffled by were too busy looking down at their phones to pay them any attention. He soon became lost in thought as they got closer to Octavio's apartment, thinking of their future as he tried to plan ahead and get everything sorted out.

Right. Their future. That future that he felt that it was his responsibility to upkeep, that future that resided between them in their two separate apartments and the job he had where he spent weekdays aboard a dropship. That future that he'd have to put more effort into solidifying, and making it a good one for their kid.

Neither of their apartments were fit for that future, especially with the two of them living apart. Deciding to have this conversation now and get it over with, Taejoon began,

“I was thinking.”

“Boring."

“Yes, boring. I was thinking that...my place is kind of small, and yours is...”

“Lame,” Octavio supplied.

“...Lame. So, ah, I was thinking that maybe we should. Move in together.”

He felt as though Octavio’s arms tightened around his neck just a little more, before his boyfriend asked,

“Really?”

He didn’t sound mocking or bored or annoyed. In fact, there was a hint of _something_ in his voice that Taejoon couldn’t begin to decipher, but he just hoped that it was a positive emotion.

“Yes. Someplace bigger. Nicer, but we’d have to keep up with it and actually _clean_. Not a house either, unless you really wanted one. Just an apartment. One that's big enough for all of us.”

He felt his face flush at those words. He’d really meant to say _the two of us_ , but ‘ _all of us’_ had slipped out because he’d been thinking about the baby and how they would need more room for it. His apartment was a one-bedroom thing, nice, but barely big enough for him. Octavio’s apartment was bigger, but still really only had room for the two of them. They would definitely be needing an upgrade.

He felt Octavio’s breath against the back of his neck, and with how long this pause went on he was worried that Octavio would tell him no. But then, to his relief (and even joy) Octavio finally said,

“That’d be cool.”

“Great,” he said, shoulders relaxing a little. “But I’d need your help. I need you to start saving up your money...or take more from your trust fund, or get a job, or—”

“Me? A _job_?” Octavio laughed in his ear, voice full of disbelief. “If you could find one that’s cool enough for me, sure. But ain’t no way I’m taking a shit ton of my money out right now. I have to do it low-key so my old man doesn’t notice.”

“Define ‘ _cool_ ’.”

“Bloodsport.”

“Try again.”

“...You really want me to get a job?” Octavio asked, tone changing, and Taejoon stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, shifting his boyfriend around in his grip. He tried to look back at him to see his face, but it was hard to at this angle, so he just resumed walking.

“I can’t afford a bigger apartment by myself,” Taejoon said honestly. "It's expensive here."

"Eh, not really."

"To _you._ "

"C'mon, cariño, you could just move in with me!"

" _Octavio,_ " Taejoon said, and swallowed his pride. “I need you. I need your help.”

There was silence as they kept on down the sidewalk, and he could feel his boyfriend's nails digging into his shoulders as they got closer to home. Finally, Octavio said with some reluctance,

“...Fine."

Taejoon smiled. "Gomawo."

“But since it’s my birthday I’ve decided to not give you that blowjob.”

Taejoon stopped again, letting the other man’s legs drop. “Then you can walk the rest of the way there."

He was joking, of course, and his smile only got bigger when Octavio cried out, “No, wait, fine, I’ll suck your dick, let me climb on again!”

* * *

On Monday Taejoon was on a team with Witt, which was convenient for him and what he wanted to do. What was _not_ convenient was the fact that they dropped in Bonsai Plaza and were in the middle of a shoot-out.

“Witt,” Taejoon said as he cocked his Eva-8, crouched behind cover. “Witt, are you listening?”

“Uh, kind of in the _middle_ of something right now?” Elliott complained, sending out a decoy that was instantly melted by Anita’s Devotion. “What is it, old man?”

He didn’t know why the other kept calling him that when he never gave him the reaction that he wanted. “I need a job.”

He hated having to phrase it like that, but he didn’t want to discuss any fine details right now in case they were overheard. Witt paused in the reloading of his Wingman, and turned to Taejoon with a stupid expression on his face that made him want to punch him.

“You need a what? A _job_?” His expression went from stupid to smug, though it was still idiotic-looking. “What was it that you said about me working a seco—”

“Yes yes, shut up,” Taejoon snapped, and peeked out from his cover long enough to shoot Anita until she was downed. “Are you hiring?”

“I may have a few positions open, but spots are filling in very quickly, I’m a very famous man, after all.”

“Shut up,” he repeated, and lobbed a grenade over his shoulder when he heard the sound of Ajay’s drone reviving. "Would you give it to me?"

"Uhhh, maybe? But I _really_ need someone to work the weekday shift."

Taejoon grit his teeth as the grenade went off and two kills were added to his counter, though he didn't move; he swore that he could hear Revenant's sinister metallic joints squeaking from here.

"Sounds good."

He watched Elliott go back to reloading his Wingman, singing lightly to himself something stupid along the lines of ‘haha Crypto needs a joooob’. He was so fucking _infuriating,_ and not in the cute way that Octavio was, either.

"What do you even need it for, anyway?" Witt then asked, clearly trying to jest with him. Distantly, they heard the sound of Revenant's Totem being set up. "Computer virus from watching porn or something?"

_Idiot._

“I had sex in your hot-tub,” Taejoon burst out, irritated, and Elliott dropped his gun.

* * *

So Octavio’s new job was. Fine.

It was a _job_ , which sucked, but he guessed that it was inevitable that he’d have to get one in order to pay his rent, and now, to buy a new place with Taejoon. But like, as far as jobs went, working on the Mirage Voyage wasn’t too bad. In fact, the worst thing about it was the fact that it was the fucking _Mirage Voyage._

He served alcohol, cleaned the bar counter, and sometimes got to DJ if he was bored, because for some reason Elliott still had music blasting at full volume, which was cool. He wasn’t sure when the little fucker in him could start hearing things, but he hoped that it liked dubstep.

Octavio had only ever had one job before this (not counting the streaming and the Games), and that had been when he and Che had gotten hired to sell ice-cream on the beach; and then he'd promptly gotten fired two weeks later because he had kept taking ‘ _free_ ’ samples of the stuff. He’d been, what, fifteen, sixteen? He remembered getting yelled at by the manager while trying to hide his melting cone of cookies-n-cream behind his back. 

Anyway, this new job on the Mirage Voyage was similar to that, in the sense that he was making things and giving them to people, except this time it was alcohol and also now he had supervision from a MRVN. At least it didn’t talk like Pathfinder did.

( _On Octavio’s first weekend, Pathfinder had been there to help teach him the ropes, being a 'veteran' employee._

_“Mirage says that you have a tiny human inside of you!” Pathfinder had said enthusiastically, and Octavio nearly dropped the glass he was holding. “That is so cool. People are very interesting!”_

_“What else did he say.”_

_“He also said that Crypto is your ‘baby daddy’. That is an oxymoron!”_

_“Thanks, Path. Tell Elliott to get bent.”_ )

Elliott was still in a spot of financial trouble, so the Mirage Voyage operated on Athens as his home-away-from-home version of Paradise Lounge, and on the weekends it got flown up to Olympus to be a glorified tourist attraction. The best thing about that part was that it was right next to Ramya’s new shop, which she’d quickly taken advantage of by plastering posters advertising her business all over the place.

“Look at you, havin’ a job,” Ramya said when she came to visit him on his second weekend. He was typing on his phone, trying to get Taejoon to come onto the stupid vessel because he was _bored_ , when she had showed up of nowhere and leaned against the bar like she owned the place. There were other people walking around, hoping to catch a glimpse of the _real_ Mirage—who was in the hot-tub room bleaching the entire place. 

“Does anyone else know I’m here?” He groaned, pulling one of her favorite beers out from beneath the counter, and she hit the cap against the edge of it and popped the top clean off.

“Eh, not yet. Nobody comes here unless they have to. And as far as _these_ plonkers know, you’re just the pretty boy who runs the bar.”

Octavio reached under the bar again, this time for a handful of chips. Ajay had come over to his place the day after his birthday to give him a diet plan, which, ha, _no thanks_. He actually _liked_ salads and fruits (rabbit-food, she’d always called it) but eating them as much as she had suggested? No way, Jo-Che. A guy needed Doritos to _live_.

His shift ended at ten today, so he was also trying to convince Taejoon to let him come over and spend the night. He’d only ever been to the other man’s apartment a few times because he kept saying that it was too small for them both, but Octavio liked it. Mainly just for his sweet PC set-up, but he liked sharing the space with his boyfriend. They touched each other more often, shoulders brushing, eyes meeting. He craved intimacy at this moment, and he wanted to follow through with it because there’d been so many times these past couple of weeks that he hadn’t wanted any intimacy at _all_.

He knew that it was, like, a pregnancy thing, which was not helping his feelings of bitterness towards the baby. He and Taejoon used to get it on a _lot,_ but now he was having nights where he didn’t feel like doing _anything_. They'd kiss for a good minute, which was nice, _fuck yeah,_ but then Taejoon would like, touch his ass or something and it would kill his mood.

What the hell was _wrong_ with him.

( _“This is your fault,” Octavio hissed._

 _“Stop talking to your stomach like that,” Taejoon slurred sleepily into his pillow._ )

Eugh, and speaking of his stomach...

He was, like, sixteen or something weeks now, and the bump was _there._

He hated it.

It couldn’t be waved aside as weight gain anymore. He had a fucking. _Baby bump_ , or whatever, and what was _worse_ was that it had happened really fucking fast. He felt like it’d just kind of popped out of nowhere—that he looked away for one moment, and when he looked back it was. _Boom_. There. Dipshit.

He was wearing hoodies to work (which Elliott had complained about because of ‘ _dress code_ ’ or whatever until Octavio had kicked him in the shin), but he knew distantly at the back of his mind that in a week or two he _wouldn’t_ be able to hide it beneath hoodies, and then he’d be known as the _pregnant_ boy who runs the bar.

Face souring at the thought, his eyes flickered back down to where his phone had gone off—Taejoon had texted him a begrudging ‘ _okay_ ’, which made him smile just a bit, momentarily forgetting his grievances—before it quickly faded away. Ugh, he was so _boreeeeed_.

Ramya finished drinking her beer before reaching over the counter to drop it into the trash can that she knew was there. “Hey, mate. I’ve got a deal for ya. You give this to me for free and I bring over my Switch for you. Deal?”

"Depends on what games you have."

“Smash: Apex Ultimate and Splatoon.”

“Fuck yeah.”

“Stop giving stuff away for free!” Mirage yelled from the hot-tub room.

* * *

The shuttle back to Athens was. Eh.

Octavio kept having these moments where he...disliked his boyfriend. Maybe dislike was a strong word. Resented, maybe? He still loved him, and was doing...crazy shit like having a _job_ for him, but there were just times when Octavio’s mood took a turn for the worse and all he could think about was the fact that he had given up so much just to be with him and it wasn’t fucking _fair_.

What had Taejoon given up? Maybe his secrecy, as it was now a little harder to keep their relationship under wraps, but that was _it_. Taejoon hadn’t needed to give up his hobbies, or his job, or his _passion_ , or his—

 _Fuck._ He knew he was being mean. Taejoon had had to give up his whole life before all of this, and he hadn’t _made_ Octavio do this—he’d made that choice for himself.

But still. Still he resented Taejoon, and most of all he resented the thing inside him.

Sometimes Octavio deluded himself into thinking that maybe it would all be fine. He’d get this kid out and get right back to work. Work out and get his abs back. Get his fucking freedom, get his _stim_ back—stop feeling so anxious and jittery all the time, and then he wouldn’t have to take his meds every fucking day, no more vitamins or medicine for his withdrawal symptoms or ADHD. He’d just _live_ again. Give the kid to Taejoon or a babysitter and go do the crazy shit he wanted to do without a fucking care in the world.

 _But you can’t_ , that little voice inside him screamed, the annoying little voice with like, morals and shit. _You’d be just like your father_.

And well, fuck, Octavio had already said that he wouldn’t be good at this parenting thing, hadn’t he?

So Octavio spent the shuttle ride annoyed by the fact that he was going out of his way to visit Taejoon’s place, which was quite the train ride from his own, before remembering that _he’d_ been the one who asked and then feeling like an asshole for getting mad at him for no reason. It was an endless cycle, and by the time he got back on the foul-smelling train he was resenting Taejoon again.

But standing before Taejoon’s door, those feelings of resentment faded away as he knocked, and then his boyfriend was opening the door.

"Hey there," Octavio greeted with a grin, trying to be flirty, but he was honestly really tired. "You come here often?"

Taejoon stared at him. "I live here."

Oh, whatever. He pushed past the threshold and wrapped his arms around the taller man's neck, kissing him in greeting. Taejoon slammed the door shut behind them, one hand on the small of Octavio's back. They didn't have much room to move here, but that was fine. Octavio liked it this way.

“The hell’s up with you,” Taejoon panted against his lips, momentarily caught off-guard by his forwardness, and Octavio shrugged.

“I was just bored today,” he said, and tugged Taejoon towards his bed, which was thankfully clear of all his shit already—no bulky jackets or puzzle cubes or flasks of alcohol. He let himself fall back onto the mattress, lifting his hoodie over his head, and Taejoon ran his fingers feather-light over the exposed skin of his stomach, before lifting his shirt up to get a better look.

He watched his boyfriend’s eyes soften as he took in the curve of Octavio’s stomach, the pronounced...baby bump, or whatever, and for a moment this whole fucking farce was almost worth it. Just to watch Taejoon’s face make an expression that for some reason made Octavio feel warm inside, that stupid feeling that some might call love, and _fuck_ , he fucking _resented_ Taejoon for making him love him. 

“C’mon, cariño, I came here so we can fuck, not so you can—”

Taejoon cut him off. "You're tired."

"And? I also wanna kiss you. Take advantage of that before I change my mind."

"...But wouldn't it hurt the baby?"

“I thought you googled this. I _refuse_ to believe your stupid horny ass never looked this up.” Octavio nudged Taejoon’s thigh, impatient. “Okay, _I_ googled it, and it’s not gonna hurt. Actually, they said that the baby’s gonna have fun. Something about...being flipped around or whatever.”

“Well, we’re definitely not having sex now,” Taejoon said, deadpan.

“Disappointed. I want my money back.”

Taejoon smiled at him before initiating a kiss this time, one hand resting against Octavio’s side while the other gripped his jaw. Finally, his boyfriend pulled away from him and mumbled against his lips,

“I’ll eat you out.”

“Fuck yeah,” Octavio said, but right at that exact moment a knock came on the door and the mood abruptly changed. Taejoon went from smooth and flirty to on-guard with his hackles raised, on his feet in a manner of seconds and reaching for the gun Octavio knew he had hidden in his desk. Octavio raised an eyebrow at this reaction, and asked,

“Do you greet the pizza delivery guy like that?”

“Octavio, it’s eleven o’clock at night,” Taejoon said quietly, and he got to his feet too to join him—albeit with some difficulty, because getting up is not that easy when you have a fucking bump on your stomach. He slid his butterfly knife out from his shorts pocket, just in case, as Taejoon silently stepped up to the door and looked through the peephole.

His shoulders relaxed almost instantly, and he tossed the gun aside—but he did mutter _“ige mwojyo?”_ to himself before throwing the door open, and Octavio squinted at the sudden amount of light from the hallway flooding into the room.

An older woman stood there, in a heavy coat that would be considered a little too overdressed for April weather, with her gray hair pulled back into a bun. Her eyes were focused on Taejoon at first as she smiled at him, the slightest upturn to her thin lips—before her gaze moved to Octavio, and he felt, for some reason, that this lady was important.

Her green eyes widened just a fraction, but her face remained mostly impassive as she looked him up and down—first at his cheeks, flushed from their kissing, then to his arm with its uncovered tattoo gripping his knife. Her eyes undoubtedly lingered on the obvious bump at his middle, and he felt like covering himself up. Finally, her gaze reached his metal legs, which he was shifting on with anxiety—before she said, with slight disbelief,

“ _Octane?_ ”

“It’s...” Taejoon looked speechless, glancing between the two of them and shaking his hands out in that nervous habit of his, before admitting, “It’s a long story, mom.”

It was Octavio’s turn to half-yell, also with disbelief, “' _Mom'?_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i edit on the ao3 website and today it crashed before it could save any of the edits i made to this chap. and when i say "edit" i mean that the chapters usually begin with like 6k words and by the time i finish editing they're at 8k words because i add a bunch of dialogue and stuff. ao3 crashed today so this is a raw unedited chapter im so sorry but i spent like 4 hours editing it and never hit save like a dumbass so. i kinda cried a little ahahaha <3
> 
> so if this chapter feels abrupt at any point im so sorry 💔💔💔💔


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for any typos i dont have spellcheck :(

Mystik peered into Taejoon’s tiny apartment, barely-concealed judgment in her eyes as she looked at the mess; his bed with its rumpled sheets, which was pretty much right next to the door; his PC set-up, which was surrounded by piles of empty ramen cups; and his closet, half its contents spilling out into his tiny kitchen. To be fair, he’d accidentally knocked over the boxes in the closet when looking for his jacket...two weeks ago.

“Don’t tell me you _both_ live here,” she said, sounding disgruntled, and Taejoon shook his head quickly, face feeling hot as he tried to assuage her worries.

“No, he has his own place, he was just spending the night.”

She looked him up and down, and he became very aware of the fact that the two of them looked like they'd just made out. Because they _had._

“Where’s Cat?” Mystik asked, not commenting on their current states, and for that he was thankful.

“With a friend.” He’d read that cats were bad for pregnant people, so he’d given his to Natalie to watch over for a bit so that he wouldn’t be interacting with him much. Mystik seemed to understand this, sucking her cheeks in as she glanced between him and Octavio, who looked rather lost.

“And how long has _this_ been going on?”

He saw the way that her eyes had narrowed, and he knew the hidden meaning in the question.

“...Four months,” he answered honestly, knowing that if he tried to stretch the truth to last June (when their 'arrangement' had began) she'd sniff it out soon enough.

“Uh, hola?” Octavio said suddenly, and they both turned to him. Taejoon felt bad for the awkward situation this must be for him. “You’re...Crypto’s mom?”

Well, it was good that he was using Taejoon’s stage name for two reasons. One, in case she wasn’t someone he trusted, and two, because Taejoon knew that she would skin him alive if she knew that _Octavio_ knew.

Mystik flashed him a look that read _‘we’ll talk later’_ before smiling at Octavio and holding her hand out for him to shake. His boyfriend stared at it like it was something foreign, before tentatively accepting.

“I’m Mystik, but you can call me Miss T while I’m here,” she said, adopting a tone that was almost businesslike. “And your name?”

“Octavio?” The shorter man looked between her and Taejoon, his brows furrowed.

“Well this is a pleasant surprise, Octavio,” Mystik said, though her tone implied otherwise. "I know you from the Apex Games."

"Heh, you a fan?" Octavio asked around a grin, though this quickly faded when he finally caught onto what she had said, and then his head was swiveling towards Taejoon. “Wait, I thought you were going to tell her-?”

“I did,” Taejoon said, face still red as he tried to avoid the other man’s eyes. He currently wasn’t able to come up with a good enough reason as to why he hadn’t told Mystik who he was seeing. He didn't really _have_ one, and now it was coming back to bite him in the ass. “I just...omitted certain information.”

Though Taejoon had been feeling recently that he was unable to get a good read on Octavio’s emotions, he most definitely noticed the change in his face now as it soured, lips downturned and eyes narrowed. His boyfriend turned away from him and picked up his hoodie, which was discarded on the bed, before sliding it over his head.

“What are you doing?” Taejoon asked, concerned, and Octavio murmured,

“Going home.”

There was a sinking feeling in his gut—he knew that he had done wrong, but he didn’t know how to explain himself, and Mystik watching his every move like a hawk wasn’t helping. He felt a certain pressure weighing down on him, and he reached out towards Octavio, apologetic.

“I’ll go with you,” he said, because he didn’t like the idea of Octavio walking late at night by himself, but his boyfriend didn't spare him a glance as he threw his hood up.

“I’m fine,” he said, and squeezed past Mystik.

“Octavio," he tried again. "It's late, you shouldn't be al—"

“I can go by my _fucking_ self, Taejoon,” his boyfriend snapped, voice raising as he rounded on his metal heel to glare at him, before slamming the door behind him. Taejoon could hear the stomping of his metal feet down the apartment stairway, fading away quickly due to his rush to get away from him. He and Mystik stood there for a moment, neither saying anything, before she finally sighed,

“You’re a fool.”

“Thanks,” he replied, clipped.

“Don’t give me sass, boy.” Mystik crossed her arms, and though she was about eye-level with him he felt that she was so much bigger in that moment. She always made him feel like he was a stupid teenager. “So he’s four months along, and you’ve been together for four months? Am I getting that right?”

“I know what you’re thinking, but we didn’t find out until February.”

“The point is,” Mystik said, speaking over him, and he snapped his mouth shut. “Four months, and you think it’s fine to tell him the _truth_?”

“What else was I supposed to do?” He hissed, and her lips thinned at his tone. “He’s having my kid, was I supposed to just lie to him?”

“Precisely,” she said right back. “He’s having your kid. _Yours._ Taejoon Park, wanted criminal, working to take down the organization he works for—and you’ve taken away his plausible deniability.”

Taejoon’s fists clenched by his sides as he tried to form an argument, because he _did_ have one, but the words just weren’t coming to him right now. He’d always hated arguing with her, always found himself flailing about as he was placed under her scrutiny, and now was no different. Thirty-one, living away from home, and still fumbling for words like he was a child.

Mystik moved past him, bustling about his tiny apartment as he tried to gather himself. Finally, he managed to get out,

“I needed him to know what he was getting himself into.”

“And by doing that you risked everything.” She picked up a stack of his empty ramen cups, her nose snubbing in disgust, before she tossed them into his empty trash can. “Honestly, Park, maybe I would’ve been more forgiving if this was just some nice man you met at a bar.”

“...I care about him,” Taejoon said, but he felt childish in saying it. Petulant.

“I believe you do. You wouldn’t have made such a stupid decision otherwise. In case you’ve forgotten, Octavio Silva is a Legend. You're actively working to take him down." She paused suddenly, before her eyes narrowed at him. “That’s why he hasn't shown up this season, correct?”

“Right.”

She cursed quietly. “I should’ve figured it out myself."

Mystik stopped picking up garbage then and instead sat on his bed, giving him a tired look as she clasped her hands in her lap. She didn’t continue her beratement of him, so he took this opportunity to change the subject.

“Who’s watching the orphanage while you’re gone?”

“Xiaolu’s taken over for me. I’ll be returning in...” She looked down at her wrist, waiting a couple of seconds, before saying, “Three days, now. It’s only a few jumps away.”

“...Why are you here?” He asked, hoping that he didn’t sound ungrateful, but he was really lost as to _why_.

“Several reasons,” Mystik said. “Believe it or not, most of them don’t have to do with you. I have business here. I decided to drop by because I had a feeling in my gut that something wasn’t right.”

"I wish you would've told me before you did that."

"And ruin my element of surprise?"

“Everything is fine,” he said quietly, burying his hands into his pockets. “He’s...taken it well."

Mystik just stared at him, quiet and calculating, for several more seconds, and he was struck with the very familiar feeling that she was viewing him as if she could see right through him. Finally, she dug around in her handbag and pulled out a little hard-drive, handing it over to him.

“She wanted me to give this to you,” she said, and Taejoon didn’t need to guess as to who she was referring to. He accepted it from her, but she stood up right at that moment and pulled him down for a hug. He knew that despite all of her judgments, she'd missed him. He wrapped his arms around his mother and tried to fight back the emotion swelling in his chest.

Finally she pulled away from him, patting him on the arm, as she said,

"Now give me the boy’s address.”

There was a pause.

“Why?” He asked uneasily, and she smiled at him.

“That’s for me to know, son.”

She stuck around for a few minutes longer, pinching his cheek sardonically and pointing out every dirty nook and cranny for him to clean, before she finally left, leaving behind the faint smell of potpourri behind her.

Taejoon sighed, running a hand through his hair before sitting down in front of his computer, logging on. It'd been left on a website he'd been using to browse apartments, trying to find the best one for he and Octavio's combined salaries that was also convenient for their places of work...though he didn't really expect Octavio to keep working at the Mirage Voyage once the baby was born...

Guilt flooded him as he remembered the way Octavio had stomped his way downstairs, and he picked up his phone, finger hovering over the 'call' button. He bit his lip, wondering if the other man would even answer, before closing his eyes and dialing him.

It went straight to voicemail, but he had expected this, and stuttered awkwardly as he swayed back and forth in his chair.

"Hey, um...I just wanted to call and say I'm sorry. I know that's n-not a very good apology, and I have a lot to explain, but..." He ran his hand through his hair again, teeth gritting. "I'm not ashamed of you, if that's what you think. It's just...she's..."

 _You know who I am_ , he wanted to say, but he held back, knowing this message could be intercepted. He knew his timer for the voicemail was nearing its end, so he ended with an abrupt "I love you".

He placed his phone face-down on his desk and instead picked up the chip Mystik had given him. He turned it over in his hand, seeing Mila's distinct markings, before plugging it into his computer.

* * *

Monday. Definitely the worst day of the week, right next to Thursday, because Thursday is the prelude to Friday and he gets tired of waiting for it. In fact, Octavio was _currently_ waiting, which didn’t help his mood.

He was somewhat anxious about going outside while he looked the way he did, so he’d ordered himself breakfast on a delivery app and was pacing in front of his door, waiting for the person to come drop off his food. He really, _really_ wanted that stupid cinnamon roll right now, but for some reason they were taking _forever_ (fifteen minutes) and it was driving him insane. 

He was anxious for a lot of reasons. He'd gotten home mad, went to bed mad, and woke up with his stomach churning. Listened to his boyfriend's message and took an angry shower and brushed his teeth so hard that his gums bled. He was frustrated, antsy, and he craved stim right now. He wanted adrenaline to take the edge off of all of this, but he was fucking stuck here without it.

He popped the tab to a can of Coke and drained half of it in one go, fingers digging into the aluminum as he kept pacing. Octavio wanted to call Taejoon and yell at him. Maybe tell him he was sorry for running off or maybe tell him to fuck off for what he'd done. Why was he so angry? He'd even said that he would lie about _himself_ if it were him. Fuck, he hated this.

Finally, there was a knock on his door, and he threw it open so quickly he probably made the delivery person shit their pants.

“Hey, buddy, what took you so—” He froze when he saw that lady from last night—Mystik—standing there and holding a paper bag that smelled suspiciously like cinnamon rolls. She looked unimpressed by his gaping, and held his food out for him.

“This may be yours,” she said smoothly. He took it from her after some hesitation.

“Thanks..?” _Dude did she kill the delivery guy._

“May I come in?” She asked, and then stepped inside before he could consider how rude it would be to tell his boyfriend’s mother ‘ _no_ ’. “Hm. Small.”

She seemed to be referring to his apartment, but he suddenly became very aware of the fact that she was a few inches taller than him. About Taejoon's height. He did not like this realization.

Opening up the paper bag, he tore apart one of the cinnamon rolls inside and watched her look around his apartment, clearly judging it—especially the pile of hoodies on the couch that he was alternating between every day in order to hide his stomach from public view.

Pointing at this very pile, Mystik said very suddenly, “Boy.”

“Me?” He asked around a mouthful of cinnamon roll, pointing to himself.

“Do you not have maternity clothes?”

“No?"

“Why not?”

“Uh.”

“Baby furniture? Baby clothes? Toys?”

“Nada,” he said. 

“And Park’s been working this whole time?” She scoffed to herself, shaking her head slightly. “Alright, put your shoes on. You’re going shopping.”

“Perdón?” He stared at her, face scrunched up. This lady had just _barged_ into his apartment asking questions, judged the place for being small, and then said that they were going shopping. He couldn’t believe he was thinking this, but he just wanted her to slow down for a moment. “What are we shopping for?”

“Clothes, obviously,” Mystik said, adjusting the collar of her heavy coat, which was the same she’d worn last night. “You’re, what, sixteen or seventeen weeks in? You’re only going to get bigger from here on out. Come on.”

 _You’re only going to get bigger._ Oh, he hated that. He hated that a lot. And he most certainly wasn’t going to go with this lady, no matter who she was. Planting his feet on the ground, he crossed his arms and glared up at her, though she didn’t seem very intimidated by him. Curse his short stature and baby bump.

“I’ve got stuff to do,” he declared, but she waved her hand dismissively.

“No you don’t. I checked with Park. Bring your daddy’s credit card, or whatever it is you use to pay for things.”

“ _I_ have to pay?” Octavio asked, affronted, but he eventually found himself grabbing his wallet from his kitchen table and following after her when she made it clear that she wasn't going to take 'no' for an answer. He was begrudgingly aware of the fact that she was right; he only had two regular shirts, and he was quickly starting to outgrow them. The rest of his shirts were crop-tops and he’d be damned if he wore those, _ever_ , while this little fucker was inside him.

But he _wasn't_ going to be happy about the shopping.

"Mystik, how'd you get my address?" He asked her, but she glowered at him.

" _Miss T_ in public, Silva." And with that she walked briskly past him.

Octavio kept eating the torn-up pieces of his cinnamon rolls as he followed her down the street, chewing sullenly. She seemed to know where she was going, leading him through several blocks and turns even though he was ninety-percent sure she lived on Gaea. They kept walking for about ten minutes, and he was just about to throw his head back and complain about how long it was taking when she stopped in front of a store, so abruptly that he bumped into her as she said,

“Here.”

It was a store carrying maternity clothes for men (paternity clothes??? but that didn't really sound right) and other trans-masculine individuals, which was cool, he supposed, though he still hated the fact that he had to shop here at all. He checked to make sure that his tattoo was completely covered by his sleeve, as it was one of the things that usually gave him away in public, before Mystik was dragging him inside.

“You have an hour," she informed him, pulling her phone from her pocket. "I have business elsewhere after this."

Octavio stared at her, not sure where to _begin_ with this whole situation. He opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again only to say, “Why are you bothering me?”

“I’m about to be a grandmother, Silva,” she said, and oh yeah, that was right. He hadn’t really been thinking of it that way. “Now go look for some damn clothes.”

Octavio stalked up and down the aisles of clothes, throwing whatever looked halfway cool over his arm. He wasn’t really checking the prices or sizes or anything because he just wanted to get _out_ of here, and he only sped up this process when he felt Mystik’s eyes burning into the back of his head, watching his every move.

When he had about ten or so articles of clothing he dumped them in front of the cash register, before squinting at the person manning it, seeing that her name was Mack.

“Could you do me a favor,” he whispered as she scanned his items, and she arched an eyebrow at him. “Can you pretend that my card was declined?”

“...Okay?” Mack said, and took his card from him when she was all done. She mimed swiping it through the reader, before announcing loudly, “I’m sorry, sir, but your card was declined.”

“Aw, man,” he sighed out dramatically, and took his card back from her. “Guess I can’t buy these after all."

“Step aside,” Mystik’s voice came, and she reached over him to hold out her card for Mack to take it. Octavio stared at the older woman, lost, before finally managing to get out,

“Uh, you didn’t have to do that, I was just—”

“I _said_ we were buying you clothes today,” she said without looking at him, and he bounced on his metal feet, slightly annoyed by her generosity. He really hadn’t expected her to step forward and pay; he didn’t want to buy these stupid clothes period, whether he was paying for them or not, so he had hoped that by pretending that his card was declined they could just leave without anything. Evidently, that wasn’t going to happen.

Mack put all of the clothes into three separate bags and handed them over to him, and he balanced them all on one arm as Mystik ushered him out of the store again.

“Can I go home now?” Octavio asked.

“Not yet,” she said, and then took him to a little café right next door. She ordered for him, which didn’t help his irritation with her. God, he was glad she lived on Gaea. He didn’t think he’d be able to handle her too much if this is what he had to expect when dating Taejoon.

Wait, no, he was mad at Taejoon right now. He should stop thinking about him.

Mystik kind of reminded him of his father with her briskness and businesslike tone, if he was being honest, though she seemed protective in a way. He could tell that she cared despite it all. His own father definitely wouldn’t have bothered making him buy these clothes, nor would he have stepped in to pay for him.

... _Fuck_ , his father. He was going to have to find out eventually, wasn’t he? His mind strayed as they sat down at a little table, leg bouncing as he waited for their drinks to come out. What would his father do when he _did_ find out? Octavio had been the intended heir of Silva Pharmaceuticals...would his father try to pass that responsibility onto the kid instead? Or what if he expected he and Taejoon to get _married_ so that he could offer the company to _Taejoon_ instead?

Octavio knew that his grandmother had married into the Silva family name just so that she could eventually be offered ownership of the company since his grandfather didn’t care for running it...what if his father tried to pull the same with Taejoon, convince him to take on the Silva name so that it would eventually be given to his grandchild?

Then Octavio would _still_ be involved in the family business despite his best efforts to write himself out of his father’s will. Doing his damndest to make sure the old man never saw him ever again would have been all for nothing.

Surely his father would have been made aware of his absence from the Games by now, though there was still the illusion that everything was normal. Octavio still had a backlog of videos to release all the way until July, so that his audience wouldn’t become suspicious of his absence either. He supposed he could try filming some more for August and September as long as he kept the camera confused solely on his face, but that would limit him to video game playthroughs only...

But when the videos stop...when he’s ready to move out of his apartment and into the new one with Taejoon...when his old man notices that Octavio’s stopped taking stim from him...

Then what?

“You’re nervous,” Mystik said, snapping him out of his thoughts, and he realized that their drinks had been placed in front of them at some point without him noticing. She’d gotten him an orange juice. She herself, tea.

“I don’t really know you,” Octavio mumbled, running his finger down the glass and wiping a clear trail through the condensation. He was still anxious, still full of energy and he didn't know where to direct it. “You just kinda broke into my apartment and then dragged me out shopping.”

“Given that you know who my son is, consider this a little...check-up. Making sure that you’re safe.” Mystik looked him up and down, and he had the feeling that she was less than impressed with him overall. Eh, he was used to disappointing parents and authority figures. “Speaking of check-ups, when’s your next?”

“I dunno. Cr...Hyeon scheduled it for me.” He frowned as he tried to remember what Farah had said. “The twenty-week one, I think.”

“You’ll find out the gender, then.”

“I don’t want to.”

“And why is that?”

 _Because I’m trans,_ he wanted to say, but he didn’t think that she would understand and he didn’t feel like going into detail. So he just raised one shoulder half-heartedly and said,

“I want it to be a surprise?”

“Well, do you have a name in mind?”

“Nope,” he said, and this time the answer was a little easier. “I don’t wanna know the gender and I don’t want a gendered name. Not really a whole lot of gender-neutral Hispanic names.”

Mystik watched him over the rim of her teacup as she took a sip, and he too picked up his orange juice in order to give himself something to do. He wished he’d been able to order a soda instead, he was starting to get the shakes again...

“Silva,” she said suddenly, and he tried not to snap ‘ _what_?’ at her. “Where’s your mother?”

“Don’t know.”

“Your father?”

“Don’t care.” 

“Any siblings?”

“Maybe a half-sister,” he said, because he couldn’t remember if his mom’s husband’s kid was hers or from his previous marriage.

"Does anyone else know?"

"A few friends."

“Why are you having this kid if you don’t want it?”

Octavio stared at her, caught off-guard by this question, his grip on his cup becoming momentarily loose—before he clenched it tightly, and asked, voice getting high-pitched,

“Who says I don’t want the kid?”

Mystik set her tea down and crossed her arms over the table, fixing him with a calculating look. Her eyes were very green and they honestly made him kind of uncomfortable; he felt as though she were seeing every part of him that he’d rather remain hidden, all of the ugly, nasty truths buried beneath his exuberant persona and daredevil identity. The fears, the anxieties, the resentment...

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of waiting, she said quietly, “I run an orphanage, son. I’ve seen parents like you. You’ve got a look in your eye and I’m not just going to let it slide. I _know_ you don’t want this kid. So the question is, _why_ are you keeping it?”

“I _do_ want it,” he said, but he didn’t sound even halfway convincing. He wished he had his knife to fiddle with, because he didn’t know what to do with his hands right now and he was getting more anxious by the second. Octavio was an excellent liar, but he felt like this woman, this _stranger_ , was picking him apart beneath her gaze, and he wanted to do what he did best; run away.

They stared at one another, Mystik’s mouth thinned into a line. He stared back defiantly, but his fingers tapped against the glass he’d been given without pause. He was just wondering how fast he could run with three shopping bags when she reached across the table and took his wrist into her hand, causing him to jump a little at the suddenness of it.

“Whatever the reason, I’m trusting you to be with him.” She held his gaze, nails digging lightly into his palm as he stared back. “I assume it’s something foolish like love. But regardless, you two should talk about it. These things always come up at the nastiest of times.”

He tore his hand away from her, heart beating so hard that he could almost feel it in his throat.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lied, and got quickly to his feet. He didn’t want to stick around here for long, not with her picking him apart from the seams. “Well, thanks for the clothes I guess.”

She stood up with him, checking her watch. “I have an errand to attend to. Walk safely.”

He didn’t acknowledge her beyond a hastened ‘ _bye_ ’ as he grabbed his things and sped down the sidewalk, checking over his shoulder every couple of seconds to make sure that she wasn’t following him. He didn’t know why their conversation had unsettled him so much, but he felt like jogging around the block to rid himself of his nervous energy, stomach churning once again.

When he got back to his apartment he locked the door behind him and dumped all of the clothes onto the couch, looking through them to get a better look at what he’d chosen. Mostly plain black shirts, though he eventually found a pair of shorts with an elastic waistband and changed into them, which made him feel slightly better.

He picked up his phone, pacing back and forth in his kitchen as he tried to call Taejoon, but it went straight to voicemail. Oh, right, the Games. They were in the middle of that, weren’t they...

Frustration overtook him, and he kicked his wheelchair, which was still laying on its side, unmoved from when he'd decorated it. It wasn’t fair that he had to give up so much for this stupid baby that he didn’t even _want_ while Taejoon got to still participate in death games and do things like hack the government, or whatever.

Hadn’t Taejoon told him that the work he did to bring down the Syndicate was dangerous and it could put himself in danger? His boyfriend was allowed to do things that risked their health and safety, but _he_ wasn’t allowed to do the same?

The resentment was coming back full-swing, his forced meeting with the other’s mother leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He opened another can of Coke, and could practically hear the older man’s voice telling him to stop, which only spurred him into drinking more out of spite. Why was he so nervous? Why did this day suck so much?

His phone rang and he answered immediately, hoping that it was his boyfriend so that he could yell at him, but it was Elliott’s voice instead.

“Hey, uhhh I know I gave you the day off but could you come in at four? I wanna get the place cleaned up for my birthday, it’s on Wednesday, so—”

“Fine,” Octavio half-yelled into the phone, and the other man went quiet.

“Dude, you okay?”

“I am _not_ , thanks for asking,” Octavio replied, crushing his empty soda-can in his fist, and he chucked it across the room, feeling somewhat satisfied when it knocked over some stupid glass cat Natalie had gifted him last Christmas.

* * *

Taejoon replayed the message on his phone for what felt like the hundredth time, wearing headphones as he sat in his room on the dropship.

“ _Hey, T. I’m gonna be an aunt soon, huh? God, you're such an old man._ ” 

He smiled to himself at this teasing, which was typical of her. She was the same age as him, so she really didn’t have room to call him ‘ _old man_ ’, but he guessed that this was a reference to Witt’s nickname for him. It was more charming come from her.

“ _Well, I hope the boyfriend is nice. I mean, I assume you have a boyfriend. Because you're gay? Maybe? Anyway, if the kid’s a girl, you’ve gotta promise me one thing...you’re gonna name her Mila. Just kidding. That’s too dangerous. But I like Miyoung. Hint hint, wink wink._ ”

He missed her. He missed her voice and her stupid jokes and awkward way of speaking. Everyone assumed that she must be the more outgoing, extroverted sibling, but the truth was that they were _both_ a little awkward. Stilted. Orphans who were computer nerds and had only ever really had each other.

“ _We’ve got to talk again...maybe soon, one of these days. Maybe I’ll find a way to see the kid. Auntie Mila’s going to be the coolest aunt they’ve ever had. But stay safe, TJ. Don’t let your guard down...and remember, forever family_.”

The message ended, and his finger hovered over the ‘ _replay_ ’ button, wanting to hear it again. He’d played this message so many times yesterday he had it all memorized, every pause and the occasional stuttered word as she tried to record everything within a short time-frame. He knew he shouldn’t be listening to it while on the dropship, but...

“You,” he heard, and he looked up to see Ajay standing there, a serious look on her face. They had never really talked much, but he’d felt as though she had been trying to catch his eye these past couple of weeks. Apparently she had gotten tired of waiting for him, and now just approached him directly. “We need to talk. It’s about Silva.”

He glanced around, making sure that nobody was near, before getting to his feet and ushering her further into his room, drawing the curtain he’d put up to block him out from the rest of the dropship. Distantly he could hear Makoa’s booming laughter and Loba’s giggles, so he could only assume that Anita was having an arm-wrestling match with everyone again. Good. It’d keep them occupied. And it was probably why Ajay had come and sought him out now.

“You know, I don’t really care. I just want to put it out there. I don’t care what Silva does with his life,” Ajay began, crossing her arms, but Taejoon had the feeling that she _did_ care. A lot. “And y’know, I’m happy for you two. I’m happy he’s being serious about something.”

He waited for her to continue, but she was now staring straight ahead, as if trying not to look at him, so he mumbled quietly, “But?”

“But I know him,” she said, letting her hands drop back down to her sides. She moved a lot like Octavio, but there was a certain rhythm to it. “And I just wanna say—I just wanna say don’t be surprised if Silva gets cold feet. I don’t think he understands what having a baby is gonna be like.”

“He’s a grown man.”

“He doesn’t act like one most of the time. He’s gonna realize soon that when he has this kid he’s not gonna be able to do the things he used to, and if he does them _anyway_ , I’m going to kick his ass.” She placed her hand on his shoulder, giving him a look that said _I could crush that twink like a bug_.

He respected her opinion, as one of his first ever teammates and one of the few people here with virtuous goals, but he would really rather not entertain the idea she was bringing up. He'd _just_ gotten over his anxieties about it.

“I think he would have said so if that were the case,” he said quietly, and she cocked her head, lips pursing. “He’s had to quit so much already. He would’ve told me by now, yes?”

“...I guess you’re right,” she admitted, frowning. “I just...”

“He-e-ey, party people!” Witt crashed through the curtain, causing them both to jump apart from one another. “Hey look, OG Worlds’ Edge squad! Perfect! You guys are coming to my party on Wednesday, right?”

“Christ, Witt, you almost gave me a heart attack!” Ajay complained, rounding on the idiot as Taejoon glared at him over her head. “ _What’s_ on Wednesday?”

“My birthday! Duh.” Elliott gave a grin and pointed finger-guns at Taejoon. “You can even invite Octane, too! I’ll buy some non-alcoholic beers for the guy.”

“Non-alcoholic beers still have alcohol in them,” Taejoon pointed out.

“They do?” Elliott blinked. “ _Really?_ But w-why are they called _non-alcoholic_ , then?!”

“Octavio isn’t going to want to come, anyways,” he said, and made a shoo-ing motion with his hand. “Now get out of my room.”

His boyfriend already threw fits about going out in public, paranoid that strangers could see the weight he’d put on even though Taejoon had told him that it was likely that nobody cared. Being around the other Legends was _not_ something that Octavio would want to do, if their conversation from the bike show was anything to go by.

He waved to Ajay as she left him behind, and she smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. He understood where she was coming from, as he’d had all those exact thoughts already, but he had told himself to stop worrying about it. There was no way that _Octavio_ , who had once spent an entire match using nothing but frags in order to piss off Anita, would do this if he didn’t _want_ to do this or wasn’t ready.

Octavio had already had to give up his stim, his stunts, the Games...surely he was perfectly aware by now that nothing would be the same after all this. That he would never be able to go back.

Surely he would have told Taejoon by now.

He stared guiltily at the missed call from Octavio that he had yet to return, and was just about to do so when he got a message.

_MST: Talk to the boyfriend._

_MST: And for heaven's sake, take some time off work. You can't leave him to do this by himself._

He sighed, gnawing on his lower lip as he read this. He'd honestly been meaning to take some more time off the Games, but he wasn't ready for _them_ to catch onto the fact that he and Octavio were together yet. He knew that he should spend more time with his boyfriend in order to support him, but he was just... _stressed._ He needed enough money to buy a new apartment and things for the baby and maybe take Octavio clothes shopping and—

His phone suddenly rang, Octavio's name flashing across his screen. Taejoon nearly dropped it in surprise; he'd been focused on Mystik's texts. He took a deep breath, before standing up to close the curtain again and answering the phone.

"Octavio," he said, right at the same time his boyfriend said, _"Crypto."_

"I'm sorry," Taejoon rushed out, pacing back and forth not unlike Octavio did when he was anxious. "I fucked up, I didn't mean to make it feel as though—"

" _I don't care_ ," Octavio said, and Taejoon sighed. " _Listen, did...did Miss T say anything?_ "

He thought about the messages he'd just recieved, and lied, "No. Why?"

" _Oh. That's. Good_."

There was a very long, awkward pause. Taejoon argued with himself internally over whether or not he should tell Octavio this when it wasn't even guaranteed that he'd get the time off, when he finally decided to just bite the bullet and tell him,

"I'm going to try and request time off in the upcoming weeks. Maybe drop out of Duos so I can spend more time with you."

"... _Really_?" Octavio sounded surprised.

"Yeah. I realized that I need to be there for you." He didn't want to tell him about the message he'd been sent, didn't want his boyfriend to think that he was only doing this because Mystik had told him to. He genuinely wanted to do this, wanted to help him out. He would just...find a way to manage his stress.

There was a pause, and for a moment he feared that he'd somehow pissed Octavio off again.

Then, his boyfriend said,

" _That's great. You wanna do something Friday_?"

He let out a sigh of relief. "Like what?"

" _I kinda want curry_."

"Curry. I could go for curry."

" _It's a date, then_."

* * *

On Friday evening, sitting on the couch together, Octavio let his fork drop onto his plastic plate, pausing his game on Ramya's Switch (he was ‘renting’ it from her in exchange for three free pints a week) as he looked over at Taejoon, who was tearing apart his naan.

They'd had a good day today. He'd woken up to Taejoon at his front door, smiling sheepishly and holding fries and a vanilla shake, which, _wow I love you and I'm never gonna be mad at you ever again._ They'd spent the day together as they normally would, playing video games and kissing whenever they felt like it. It was nice. A return to form, almost. No resentment brewing in him or annoyance over the kid. In fact, he'd nearly forgotten about it...until now.

He remembered Mystik's conversation with him on Monday, and it had been bugging him all week, so he decided to get it over with now.

“We need a name for the baby," he said. Taejoon looked over at him with wide eyes, mouth stuffed full of bread. Octavio wished he could take a picture of him like that.

“We don’t know the gender yet,” Taejoon said, and Octavio rolled his eyes.

“No, that’s _good_ ,” he said, and his boyfriend cocked his head to the side. “That way it won’t influence the name or anything.”

He may not want this thing, but he was adamant about _that._ Putting unnecessary gendered expectations on a kid? _His_ kid? No way.

Taejoon smiled a little at him, slowly lowering his own plastic plate before asking, “Do you already have a name in mind?”

Octavio shook his head. “Nah, I want you to name it.”

Taejoon stared at him, lips parted in disbelief.

"I named my cat _Cat._ ”

“And your unhackable drone, Hack.” Octavio grinned at the way his boyfriend’s face flushed at the reminder of this incident, before leaning close to him so that they were now shoulder-to-shoulder. “Look, Hispanic names are like. _Terrible_. Did you know that Spanish _words_ have genders? Huh?”

“I named my cat Cat,” Taejoon repeated, and Octavio punched him lightly.

“Yes, I _know_ , you suck at naming things—but Korean's gotta have _some_ gender-neutral names, right? I don’t think Korean is gendered.” He then raised his eyebrows. “Unless you want an _English_ name?”

“Absolutely not,” Taejoon said.

“Exactly. Fuck the English language.” Octavio placed his hand on the other man’s jaw, tilting his face closer to his. Taejoon's cheeks were still flushed, which was cute. “C’mon, cariño. Do it for me. I think you’ll pick out a pretty kick-ass name.”

Taejoon sighed, fingers drumming lightly against his thigh, before he finally relented with a ‘ _fine_ ’.

Octavio grinned, glad that _that_ expectation had now been lifted off his own shoulders. More importantly, he had just wanted a name for the little bastard inside of him that was actively ruining his life. He was running out of creative insults.

* * *

_Crypto: so._

_Crypto: about the name._

_Me: ye_

_Crypto: what is the last name going to be?_

_Me: silva obviously_

_Crypto: are we not including mine?_

_Me: oh, we are_

_Me: but i get the man’s part in the name_

_Crypto: explain_

_Me: okay so_

_Me: in my culture we have both of our parents last names_

_Me: the dad’s comes first and the mom’s comes second_

_Me: i get first_

_Me: no buts_

_Crypto: that’s fair._

_Me: also its gonna piss off my dad so i wanna do that_

_Me: for me he just had them put down just ‘silva’ because he said his name by itself is powerful enough_

_Me: well guess WHAT dad._

_Me: that shits WEAK the silva family name ends with me_

_Crypto: but their name is still going to have silva in it?_

_Me: it’s gonna be silva-park which is not the same_

_Crypto: silva-kim._

_Me: WHATEVER ITS STILL NOT GONNA B JUST PLAIN SILVA_

_Crypto: well, if the baby has both of our names, wouldn’t we need to be married first in order to do that?_

_Me: a_

Octavio let his head drop against the bar, knees metaphorically going weak. _Marriage_. Marrying Taejoon. Why did that not sound like an awful idea? Because it was, objectively, an awful idea. Fuck marriage and everything it stood for. But like. 

But like...

 _You’re already having a baby for this man,_ he screamed at himself internally. He pinched himself on his arm to tune himself back to reality. Right, marriage sucks. He told himself he'd never get married. His dad's many failed marriages had assured him of _that._

( _But like. Taejoon._ )

“Good afternoon,” he heard, and when he looked up he saw Bloodhound standing there, approaching the bar. Panicking, he dropped to his knees so that his torso wouldn’t be seen, elbows digging into the bar counter as he grinned up at them nervously.

“Heeeey, compadre. How's the bird?..Anthony?"

They gave him a look that seemed almost unimpressed, even with their mask in the way of their facial expression. Then, they said, “I know that you are pregnant, Octane.”

He jumped to his feet, eyes narrowing as he reached out to grab them by their collar. To their credit, they didn’t flinch at all as he pulled them close to him and hissed,

“ _Who told you?_ ”

“It is obvious,” they responded coolly.

He let go of their collar, hoping that his face didn’t look as sour as he felt. “Oh. _Great_.”

“I saw you here last week, but did not come over to say hello. I believe you were getting into an argument with a customer because you wrote an expletive on his drink order.”

“Okay, that guy wanted a Michelada without tomato juice. He _deserved_ what he got.”

They cocked their head to the side, one of their gloved thumbs running smoothly over the edge of their blade. He was expecting them to just walk away after that, but they asked, “May I have a Shirley Temple?”

He couldn’t tell if they were joking or not, so he Googled the ingredients for it and started throwing it together for them. He wasn’t really good with making cocktails yet, couldn’t really remember the names of half of them. Elliott had made him a little guide, but he’d lost it some time ago, and mostly just told customers _‘we don’t serve that here’_ if they asked him for something he didn’t know how to make.

(“How do you not have the stuff to make a Long Island Iced Tea?” Someone had complained once. “It’s a classic!"

"Get lost," Octavio said, not looking up from his phone, and he was pretty sure that they had flipped him off.)

He finally slid Bloodhound their drink, being mindful to not bump his stomach against the corner of the bar, which he’d been doing a lot recently. He just wasn’t used to having so much...extra weight. It made him really self-conscious, so he tried not to think about it, but he was reminded of it every time he accidentally did so. It was a little too hot in here to be wearing a jacket, but he was anyways, determined to keep it as concealed as he could, but it apparently wasn’t working if Bloodhound could tell from a glance.

“I will be honest,” Bloodhound said as they messed with something on their mask, and then he watched them poke their straw through a tiny, unseen hole. They drank from it before setting it down and continuing: “I did not picture you as the fatherly type.”

“Me neither, buddy.”

“Do you have a partner?” They asked, and cool, they hadn’t yet figured out that he and Taejoon were together yet. He still wasn’t quite sure of his boyfriend’s stance on others knowing that they were together, so he just shrugged and lied,

“One-night stand.”

“Ah.” He could tell that they didn’t believe him, and this was only further compounded when they said, “That seems very uncharacteristic of you.”

“The one-night stand?”

“No, that, I believe. I mean keeping the child of someone you don’t know.” They sipped from their drink again. Thankfully, they didn’t pursue the subject, so he did his best to change it by asking them,

“So why are _you_ here?”

“I’m visiting Mirage,” they said honestly. They pulled money from one of their many pockets and placed it on the bar for him. “The change is your tip.”

“Gracias,” he mumbled, and looked behind him at the menu to see what a Shirley Temple cost. Damn, they’d given him a big tip. “Uh, _why_?”

“We have business to attend to together.”

He squinted at them. “That sounds uncharacteristic of _you._ ”

Bloodhound finished off their Shirley Temple before setting their empty glass down. They saluted him, giving him a silent nod, before saying, “Tell Crypto I said hello.”

Octavio stared after them as they walked away, dumbfounded because _how did they figure it out,_ before it clicked in his head what they'd _just_ said and he scrambled to message Taejoon.

_Crypto: aha._

_Crypto: it was a joke..._

_Crypto: hello?_

_Crypto: tavi, i was joking._

_Me: FORGET ABT THAT_

_Me: HOUND AND ELL ARE FUCKING_

_Crypto: what._

_Me: THEYRE FUKCMKWCNWKNCKWJNK_

_Crypto: how do you know this exactly?_

_Me: THEY KNOW WE’RE TOGETHER_

_Crypto: and you thought the obvious conclusion is that? they and witt are together?_

_Me: LOOK U HAD 2 B THERE_

_Me: I JST THINK HOW ELSE COULD THEY KNOW UNLESS???_

_Crypto: okay._

_Crypto: well._

_Crypto: i already have some names in mind. did you want to hear them?_

_Me: I DONT CARE ABOUT THAT I WANNA KNOW WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED THERE_

_Me: THEM???_

_Me: NAH_

_Crypto: others could say the same about you and i._

_Me: BUT I AM SO SEXY AND FUNNY_

_Me: WITT IS NEITHER OF THOSE THINGS_

_Crypto: you are correct_

_Crypto: i’ll see you tomorrow._

_Crypto: okay?_

_Me: WITT AND HOUND_

_Me: SITTIN IN A TREE_

_Crypto: goodbye._

* * *

The weeks passed marginally better than they'd been before all of this. Now that Taejoon had dropped out of Duos, they had more time to spend together, and Octavio was reminded that _he_ had been the whole reason he'd kept this baby. Every time his boyfriend laughed or flushed or did something mysterious he felt something akin to an adrenaline rush, and fuck, he craved Taejoon now more than ever in the absence of his stim.

They'd spent most of the evening before his next check-up with Farah kissing, him pinning Taejoon to the bed and digging his nails into his sides, earning hitches in the taller man's breath that excited him.

Then he'd gotten hungry and they'd stopped, but he kind of wished that they had continued. Recently sex had been making him sleepy, and right now he was tossing and turning in bed, unable to find a comfortable position. They'd gone to bed three hours ago, but he had yet to drift off even once. He just felt _restless_ , but not in a good way. He didn’t have any energy, but he also just couldn’t sleep.

Maybe it was the big dinner he’d had— _four_ whole slices of pizza, because he’d felt particularly ravenous, and also Taejoon had ended up ordering him his favorite kind.

("I hate bacon," his boyfriend muttered, picking the pieces of it off his slice.

"But you looooove me," Octavio said, and the other man rolled his eyes.)

Octavio stared sullenly at the ceiling of his room, trying to think of something to help him fall asleep. Che liked drinking lavender tea when she had trouble sleeping, but he wasn’t very good at making it. Maybe Taejoon could, but the man was fast asleep next to him, face buried into his pillow, silent. Taejoon sometimes slept like the dead. It was kind of freaky.

He picked up his phone and scrolled through his social media, liking several of his fans’ fanart from his latest video. It was one of the first he’d recorded during his initial time off, mixing pop rocks with Coke and drinking the mixture after eating a ghost pepper just to see how it’d feel in his mouth...

Suddenly, he felt a weird sensation in his stomach. At first, he thought it was hunger pains, which was weird, because he’d _just_ had four slices of pizza. Then he thought it was nausea, as it was that familiar churning sensation.

But somehow the feeling in his stomach only intensified, and he realized with a jolt of horror what it was.

Sitting up so quickly that his phone flew out of his hand and nearly slid off the bed, he grabbed Taejoon roughly by his shoulder and shook him frantically.

“Dude, wake up _now._ "

Taejoon jerked awake and sat up quickly, already reaching for the gun he’d placed on his side of the bed, but Octavio grabbed his wrist to stop him.

“No, it’s fine, it’s just—”

“ _Octavio_ ,” his boyfriend groaned, falling back onto his pillow and running his hand through his hair, clearly stressed. “Don’t— _scare_ me like that, I thought—”

“The baby’s moving.”

Taejoon blinked up at him with bleary eyes. “The baby's what?”

“I said it’s _moving_ , ‘Joon,” Octavio hissed, filled with that familiar nervous energy again. His breathing had gotten heavier in his panic, and for a moment he thought that the sensation of it had become lost. But then he felt it again, somewhere inside him, and he forcefully grabbed his boyfriend’s hand and brought it close to his stomach, unsure if he was imagining things or not. “See if you can feel it, c’mon.”

Taejoon had sat up again, his bed-hair sticking up all on one side, but his eyes seemed more alert as he focused on Octavio’s stomach, palm placed against his middle while the strange feeling kept churning inside of him. His boyfriend glanced at him, lips turning up a little at the corners.

“I can’t feel it,” he said, and Octavio rolled his eyes. “But I’m glad that you can.”

“Maybe I’m just hungry.”

“Maybe. But you _are_ supposed to start feeling it around this time.” Taejoon laid back down, reaching up to adjust the collar of his nightshirt, before he gently ran his fingers down Octavio’s back. “Lay down. Your appointment’s tomorrow.”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Try.”

He let out a groan, before flopping back as well. The churning feeling had faded away a little so that he couldn’t focus on it so hard, but that was fine with him. It was kind of freaking him out a little. He turned onto his side (which wasn’t really the most comfortable) and let Taejoon pull him against his chest, reaching for his discarded phone as his boyfriend slung his arm over his waist.

He scrolled through social media again, vision starting to get a little more blurry as tiredness hit him again. He felt the other man's fingers slide over his stomach gently, and fought back a shiver at the feather-light touch. He was about to move his hand off of him when he felt Taejoon's lips press lightly against the back of his neck, his breath warm as he said quietly,

"I've got a name in mind."

"Oh yeah?" Octavio asked, letting his phone drop. "Only took you like two weeks."

"We've established that I'm bad at names."

"Let me hear it, then."

"Well, it's two, actually. Jihyun and Hyunjin."

"Ji...hyun," he said slowly, letting the syllables roll off his tongue. "Hyun, like, _Hyeon_?"

"Well, we were talking about cultures," Taejoon said, still touching his middle, and Octavio placed his hand on top of his, wanting to move it away from his stomach. "I've been told that parents sometimes pass a syllable onto their children. But, ah...passing on one of mine from my real name doesn't seem like a good idea."

"So you're using the fake one instead?"

"Yeah. Those were the two I liked best." He felt Taejoon kiss his jaw, a fluttering feeling in him that had nothing to do with the baby occuring right as he did so. He let his hand drop from Taejoon's, letting him continue to touch his middle as he turned his head back to look at him.

"Which one do you like better?" Taejoon asked him, meeting his eyes, and he felt put on the spot.

"I was going to let you pick," he mumbled. He was equally not as good with names despite his teasing of the other. "What were they again?"

"Jihyun and Hyunjin."

He repeated them to himself in his mind, trying to see which one sounded better because hey, if he had to put up with the kid, he might as well pick a name that he liked saying. After a brief moment of consideration, he let his head fall back onto his pillow.

"I like Hyunjin," Octavio said.

Taejoon wrapped his arm more tightly around him, and he felt the other's leg shift a little, nudging the back of his thighs due to how close they were. His boyfriend kissed the back of his neck again, sweet, before saying quietly,

"Hyunjin it is, then."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i let my friends help decide the baby's name and hyunjin was the winner :] thanks for voting guys!
> 
> [sprinkles some bloodhound in there] for siri
> 
> also i wrote most of this on my school chromebook so if you see a censored curse word my bad AKS8SKSIWK


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tws: religion is briefly touched on as well as dysphoria

Taejoon sighed, exhausted, as he shut his laptop off and placed it on Octavio’s bed, scrubbing his hand over his face. He was tired. Of what, it was hard to pinpoint, since there were so many tiny pieces in his life moving at the same time right now that it was difficult to keep track of.

The baby was fine, so he didn't need to worry about that too much. Octavio’s check-up with Farah last week had gone well and they’d scheduled an appointment for his glucose screening later on, so all of that had been taken care of and the status of Hyunjin's health wasn't stressing him out like it had been before the check-up.

Hyunjin...though he’d honestly had a bit of a preference towards _Jihyun_ , he was fine with his boyfriend's choice. He was glad that Octavio had had the final say in what the baby’s name would be, despite the other's assurances that he was perfectly fine with _not_ being involved in the naming process at all.

In a sense, the whole naming process was one of the many things stressing Taejoon out.

Taejoon wouldn’t really consider himself religious. Mystik was, and got a good portion of the funding for the orphanage from her old church—but she didn’t try to force it onto him, and stopped talking about it with him completely once he was old enough to understand what he did and didn’t believe in.

Taejoon believed that marriage was a religious institution, and that he didn’t _need_ to get married to express that he loved someone. It was all symbolic. The idea of simply living as cohabitants was fine with Taejoon; it was _basically_ marriage, just without all of that wishy-washy ‘ _declare your love in the eyes of God_ ’ stuff that Mystik used to say. While his feelings towards the subject had never been particularly strong, he’d always known that he’d probably never get married. It just seemed like a waste of time.

And then...well. This whole situation had happened.

The idea of marrying Octavio felt both right and wrong. _Right_ in the sense that they were having a kid and moving in together, so why not take it a step further and make it legal between them? It just seemed logical. Then Hyunjin would automatically take on both their last names without any extra added hassle, they would both have legal custody of the baby, and handling their finances would become less complicated. 

At the same time, though, the thought of getting married to his boyfriend _terrified_ him. He often woke up in a cold sweat while aboard the dropship, paranoia infiltrating every corner of his brain as he worried, _what if something happened to him while I’m gone, what if something happens to him and it’s_ my _fault_. The frequency of those moments would certainly increase with the added heavy knowledge that _he_ had directly caused this, _he_ was to blame for any harm that came Octavio's (and later, Hyunjin's) way because he'd chained the two of them to Taejoon Park.

Those nights where he woke up in a cold sweat usually resulted in him waiting on tenterhooks for Octavio to answer his phone, biting his tongue so hard that he could taste metallic blood. Octavio usually answered, since he often stayed up late, but on occasion he sounded groggy when he finally did pick up and Taejoon would feel guilty for waking him. But guilt was a small price to pay for the knowledge that Octavio was alive and well and _at home_ and not...

_Don’t think about that._

Trying to will away his morbid thoughts, he adjusted his position in bed before looking over at his boyfriend, who was snoring into his pillow, head turned at an awkward angle. Octavio had never snored before this; Taejoon had read somewhere that it had to do with increased nasal congestion. It was almost endearing, in a way. He often fell asleep listening to those snores, comforted by the fact that he was right there, alive. _Resting_.

He was scared of ruining that. This new record of his, this clean identity—sure, he could get married with it and not raise any eyebrows, but when reality inevitably comes crashing down, he would only have himself to blame for it all. He should’ve _never_ gotten attached. He should’ve never endangered Octavio by marrying him, having this kid with him, living with him, _hell_ , even befriending him had been a mistake. Every person he grew attached to was in danger just by association—Octavio. Natalie. Renee.

What would he do with himself if his child was ever harmed because of who he was? How could Taejoon live knowing that just by being Hyunjin's father, he was potentially setting them up for personal tragedy? Whether it be Hyunjin getting hurt or losing one or both of their fathers—fuck, he'd made all of that possible for a poor, innocent kid. _His_ kid.

 _Stop thinking like that_ , came a voice that sounded an awful lot like Mila’s, but it was really hard to. He’d been falling victim to those kind of thoughts recently, along with other fears and worries, like what if, when he and Octavio move in together for real, they grow to dislike each other? Or what if something goes wrong with Hyunjin when they're born, or what if he fucks up and isn’t a good father?

He didn’t have one growing up, and though Mystik had raised him with love, her parenting methods were...unconventional. He didn't exactly have a shining example to go off of when it came to raising a child to have a _normal_ life.

Taejoon and Mila had been two cogs in a larger machine whose full picture could only be seen by their foster mother. They had a competitive childhood, two kids among a dozen working to become smarter, better, work harder to achieve whatever she wanted. He wasn’t going to raise his kid like that, but that was where some of his other doubts blossomed; he didn’t know _how_ to raise a kid in any other way. 

He’d been reading parenting books in his spare time aboard the dropship, and everything just seemed daunting. So many _what-ifs_ and _do’s_ and _don’ts_ and so many varying opinions on what were the _correct_ _do’s_ and _don’ts_ that it was confusing.

He rolled over onto his side, taking in Octavio's sleeping profile. Watching the other man in moments like these where his nerves were running haywire often helped ground him. His boyfriend's mouth was hanging open, drooling onto his pillow in an unflattering manner. His shirt had ridden up to expose the bottom half of his pregnant belly, which seemed dramatically larger than it actually was due to Octavio's lithe body. The nails on one of his hands had gittery polish on them, a result of boredom one afternoon.

He tried to commit every little detail to memory, and in doing so his feelings of paranoia slowly dwindled.

Taejoon ended up not being able to sleep much that night, and at about five in the he morning got up quietly, entering Octavio’s kitchen in order to pull out the small tubs of rice and soup he’d made for dinner. In addition to the parenting books, he’d also been trying to learn how to cook because he and Octavio were... _bad_ at it.

Key word: _try._

(“What’s this?” Octavio had asked on Friday evening, nose snubbing at the pot on the stove that smelled strongly of soy sauce, because it had come out faster than Taejoon had thought it would out of the bottle.

“It was supposed to be japchae,” he mumbled, embarrassed, as he pulled a fork from the dishwasher and used it to scrape off the noodles stuck to the bottom. “I burned it somehow.”

"Why are you even cooking?"

"Because one of us has to be able to handle household chores." He flicked his hair out of his sweaty face. "I can do this."

"Name one thing you've cooked before now that isn't mac and cheese. Rápidamente."

There was a pause. Octavio rolled his eyes.

“Dude, just order a pizza," he said.

“...Fine.”)

He placed both tubs in the microwave and wrote on a post-it for Octavio before sticking it to the glass surface. He’d made enough to last the other man a couple of days if he ate reasonably. He was trying to get his boyfriend to eat healthier and lay off the caffeine, so after he dressed Taejoon took two cans of soda from the fridge and tossed them into the dumpster outside on his way to the shuttle. It was a dirty tactic, but if Octavio ran out faster he wouldn’t bother going out to get more. 

The shuttle was mostly empty, as it was early in the morning and Olympus wasn’t open to tourists on the weekdays, since the Games were being held there. A lone employee that Taejoon knew was in charge of dropship upkeep yawned across from him, his eyes drifting shut, and Taejoon had to wake him up again when the shuttle docked.

“Thanks,” the man gurgled, exhausted, as he stumbled out. “Where you been recently, Crypto?”

“I have private matters,” he answered shortly.

“Well, the staff’s left your room untouched, like you asked us to. But uhh, I think Mirage might’ve booby-trapped it while you were gone. Somethin’ about...a baby.”

Taejoon paused momentarily in his walking, staring at the employee to see if he knew more than he was letting on. The elderly man just sneezed and kept walking, not noticing that he’d stopped.

Aboard the dropship he saw a few other Legends awake, those who didn’t stay during the weekend and took shuttles to get back like he did. Loba wiggled her fingers at him while Renee yawned beside her, nursing a cup of coffee. Those two had been spending a lot of time together recently. Renee was an expert at helping others deal with insomnia.

Taejoon swept aside the curtain that partitioned his room and stared hard at everything inside, looking for anything that was even slightly misplaced—before his vision was suddenly covered by a thick white cloud, and he sneezed. He heard something _thunk_ to the ground, but he couldn’t open his eyes because of the stuff coating his face. 

Coughing, he lifted up his shirt and managed to wipe at his eyes with the untouched inside of it; when he finally managed to squint them open, he saw a bottle of baby powder on the ground, and he himself covered in the stuff.

“ _Witt_ ,” he hissed beneath his breath, and rounded on his heel, ready to hunt the trickster down and punch him. He nearly ran into the newest Legend in his haste, and her eyes widened as she dropped her pen in surprise at his appearance.

“Sorry,” he said shortly, bending down to pick it up for her, and when he straightened up he saw that her face was full of concern.

“It’s quite alright, darlin’. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Her lips quirked up a little at her joke, before she sniffed a little and broke into a wider grin. “Well that’s baby powder, that is. I’d recognize that smell anywhere.”

“Right,” he mumbled, trying not to meet her eyes as she took her pen back from him. Horizon was a couple of inches taller than him, and honestly reminded him of a stick with how thin and straight she was. He wondered if it was a result of being stuck in space for years or if she was just naturally like that. “I’m sorry, Dr...Somers?”

“Dr. Mary is fine, dear. May I ask why you’re covered head-to-toe in powder?”

“Witt.”

“Ah, the little trickster. Explains it.”

“He’s hardly little.”

“And you’re the wee little hacker, aren’t you?”

He squinted at her, and she giggled. Okay, so she was definitely being like _that_ on purpose. He made as if to move past her, still intent on hunting Witt down, but paused as he thought of something. He knew the story of Mary Somers, the physicist who went into space and never came back, leaving her son as an orphan. She had been a mother at one point, and would know parenting better than anyone else aboard this ship. Surely she would have some advice for him.

Taejoon's only other options were books that gave confusing, conflicting information and his own mother. Asking her for help wouldn't hurt...would it?

“Um, actually, Dr. Mary, could I...talk to you for a bit?” He asked, sounding more hesitant than he meant to.

“Why, of course you can!” She reached her hand out and brushed some baby powder off of his shoulder. “But go get yourself cleaned up now. I’ll put on a kettle.”

* * *

Two hours before they were all scheduled to start today’s game, Taejoon found himself seated across from Dr. Mary, a cup of tea in hand, which was something that Mystik would do, though this tea was much sweeter. She had given him milk and sugar whereas his own mother usually left theirs untouched.

The older woman sat across from him, stirring her tea with a tiny spoon, before lifting the cup up to her face and smiling at him over its rim. “Now, what is it you wanted to talk about?”

“Well.” He knew they were alone, but glanced around anyway just to make absolutely sure. Everyone else was either taking a quick nap before the game or doing whatever it is they did to ready themselves. He and Dr. Mary were alone, so there was no need to beat around the bush—and he felt less nervous discussing this with her given that she was a parent herself and hadn’t known him long enough to judge him.

Well, that was sort of a lie. He felt incredibly nervous revealing this to _anyone_ , but he was desperate for more information, and Dr. Mary, he figured, would be a reliable source of it.

So finally, after some internal debate, Taejoon admitted, “My partner is, ah, pregnant.”

Her response was instantaneous; her eyes, a blue darker than Natalie’s, seemed somehow brighter as she reached over and placed her fingers gently on the back of his hand, saying with true joy in her voice,

“That’s _wonderful,_ darlin’, when are you due?”

“September...eighteenth, I think.”

“That’s only a few short months from now! Oh, I’m so happy for you.” She withdrew her hand and instead placed it back on her cup, her fingers drumming against the porcelain. He’d noticed that she was restless like Octavio, though her movements were smaller. “How’s the mother?”

He pursed his lips. “Well, he’s a father.”

“Och, I’m sorry for assuming. How’s he farin’?” She glanced to the side a bit, doing some quick math, before saying, “He’d be just about five months in, wouldn’t he? Has he felt movement yet?”

“He has.”

“Is this your first?”

“It is.”

“Oh, darlin’.” She let out a sigh, almost wistful. “Everything’s about to change for you.”

“That’s why I wanted to talk to you,” Taejoon said, and she nodded in understanding. “Just for...advice.”

“Well, I’ll tell you what,” Dr. Mary said, and reached for her pen again. “Hold out your hand, dear.”

He did so cautiously, and she wrote on the exposed part of his palm a series of numbers.

“That’s my number, alright? Give me a ring any time, and I’ll gladly talk to you and the dad. I feel that this isn’t the best setting for some parenting advice. You ken?”

“Right,” Taejoon mumbled, and she went back to sipping her tea. He followed suit, face scrunching a little since he wasn’t used to it being so sweet, but it wasn’t really bad. Just different. 

He'd hoped to glean some information from her right now, since he didn't really like keeping in contact with people he didn't know well, but he was low-key glad that she had said now wasn't the time to discuss that sort of thing. He'd lock himself up in his room for the rest or the week if anyone walked in and overheard their conversation.

Dr. Mary rose from her seat, smiling at him as she carried her cup to the sink, before saying,

"Well, I'm happy you two seem to be involved. I was a single mother...it's not a walk in the park, being a single mother."

Taejoon just nodded, not wanting to divulge any more information than he'd already had.

" _B_ _eing_ a mother? It's the greatest feeling in the world, it is. Well...a father in your case. But when you finally hold your little one—"

He watched the teacup slip right through her hands and break apart inside the sink. He opened his mouth to apologize, for what, he didn't know, but she just shook her head and scooped up the porcelain shards into her bare palms.

"I didn't mean to startle." She tossed the shards into her trash and wiped her face, though her back was facing him and he couldn't see what she was wiping. "No...Mr. Kim, when you finally hold them, everything will finally make sense."

"Right," Taejoon mumbled quietly, trying to picture it; holding Hyunjin in the hospital, hopefully more knowledgeable than he was now. Wanting to give them the best childhood he possibly could despite being who he is. And he _would._ He'd make sure of that.

Dr. Mary turned to smile at him, taking the kettle off the stove as she did so and carrying it over to the fridge.

"Oh, by the way, darlin', the trickster’s right behind you."

“Aw man, I wanted to scare him,” he heard Witt complain, and Taejoon exhaled through his nose, before taking another sip from his tea. “Hey, Cryppy, did you like the _baby shower_ gift? Heh.”

Taejoon lowered his cup onto the counter, staring straight ahead. “You have three seconds to run.”

“What?”

“One.”

Elliott turned on his heel and bolted out of the room.

* * *

Octavio was getting really fucking tired of this whole pregnancy schtick.

As the weeks went by, every single passing day just made him feel _worse_. He was always tired, irritated, and constantly felt bloated, which was a feeling he’d thought he’d escaped after starting testosterone and putting an end to his periods. And god did he _miss_ his fucking testosterone.

He missed his stim, he missed talking directly to his fans, and he missed the rush of jumping from a high cliff armed with nothing but a P2020 and a lone arc star. He missed not feeling like _shit_. He missed not having his back hurt and not having fucking stretch marks everywhere. He also missed when the baby was, like, insignificant, and didn’t feel the need to move around so much.

“I have bad news,” Octavio said one day over the phone, sitting on his ass behind the bar on the Mirage Voyage. It was Tuesday, so nobody was here, and he was taking apart Ramya’s Switch on the floor for fun. “I think Hyunjin is gonna be like me.”

“What makes you say that?” Taejoon sounded slightly concerned.

“They haven’t stopped moving for the past, like, hour.” 

“Oh God. There’s going to be two of you.”

“But you love me more, right?”

“It’s...a _baby_ , Octavio.”

Speaking of the baby, they kicked him again right as Taejoon said that. He’d gotten used to the rather nauseating feeling of it, but he still scowled all the same, frowning down at his stomach. Being six months in, the baby bump was truly fucking awful. He looked like he was carrying a (slightly deflated!!) basketball beneath his shirt. Not a fully inflated one. Not _yet_.

But he was still getting... _big_ , and people were starting to give him looks. Generally the shock wore off after a couple of seconds; he would watch the puzzle pieces finally click together in their minds and then they would smile at him like they hadn’t just thought to themselves ‘ _huh_?’ He fucking hated the pretense of it all.

Octavio was used to being alone. He’d spent most of his childhood by himself, cooped up in a huge mansion while his father did fuck-all to see him. And he didn’t care about what people thought of him...he _really_ didn’t, no way...but the looks people got on their faces when seeing him hurt, and made him feel more isolated than he'd ever had. A loneliness that he thought he had manned up and gotten over when he was like, twelve, but now it hung over him like a heavy cloud and he couldn't seem to get rid of it.

 _Especially_ when Taejoon wasn’t around. Octavio hardly went out anymore, half-terrified that someone would see him and recognize him. Sure, his stomach mods were off, he’d been wearing a different pair of legs more suitable for casual situations these past few months, and his tattoo was always covered—but he was afraid that despite losing all of his identifiable features, people would _still_ be able to tell it was him, and the world would _know._ He wasn't ready for that. He never would be.

So Octavio only ever left his apartment to go to work, and that was it. He ordered food and had the delivery people drop it off at his door because he didn’t want to have to open it and risk recognition. Che came over a couple of times, bossing him around and trying to convince him to get some fresh air, but beneath all that he could see the pity in her eyes when she looked at him and _that_ stung the most.

He was _Octavio Silva_. He’d turned his house into his personal skating park when he was six. Made a parachute out of condoms when he was eight. Dived off a cliff into shark-infested waters when he was fifteen. Blew off his own fucking legs when he was twenty-four. He didn’t _need_ pity. He prided himself on being _off, loco, crazy,_ whatever word people wanted to throw at him, because he _was_. He was impulsive and daring and _blew off his legs_ , with a fucking _grenade_.

But he _wasn’t_ that Octavio Silva anymore.

He was now the Octavio Silva who walked in circles in his apartment for three hours because he was too afraid to go outside. He was the Octavio Silva who ate a huge bag of Hot Cheetos and still felt hungry afterwards. He was the Octavio Silva who fell in love with some nerdy hacker guy and chose to keep a whole-ass _baby_ because of him.

At least, he was pretty sure he was in love. He might have never experienced it before, but ‘ _having a baby because of you_ ’ must definitely mean he loved Taejoon, right?

Because if not, what was the fucking point of it all?

He'd rather not think about it. He _did_ love Taejoon. Even if he wasn't entirely sure what exactly love was, yet.

At twenty-four weeks (which he knew because Taejoon was being annoying and, like, keeping track of it on a calendar) he burst into Elliott’s ‘office’ on Thursday evening. Normally the guy was on the dropship during weekdays, but he’d come back today to do something-or-other about his rent. Or maybe not? Didn’t he _own_ this party boat? Anyway, _whatever_ , he was here now and Octavio had a bone to pick with him.

“Witt,” Octavio said, and Elliott looked up at him with wide eyes, like a deer caught in headlights. “You accidentally sent me the wrong amount to my account.”

The older man’s eyes darted around, and he had a nervous look in them that Octavio was very familiar with. The ‘ _oops-I-just-sent-a-decoy-and-revealed-my-hiding-spot_ ’ look. 

“W-well, about that,” Elliott said, and Octavio’s eyes narrowed. “Uhh...I’m d-docking your pay?”

“ _Why_?” Octavio asked, kicking the door shut behind him in case anyone happened to be around. 

“Okay, two reasons,” Elliott confessed, throwing his hands up in the air as Octavio crossed his arms, foot tapping impatiently. “One, business isn’t—isn’t uh, going too well, apparently the ‘ _novelty_ ’ of the Mirage Voyage ‘ _wears off_ ’ or whatever—which would be _okay_ if we had a good enough bar to make up for it but, but we don’t.”

“How is that my fault?”

“ _Y-you_ run the bar, Octavio!” Elliott sputtered, and Octavio bit the inside of his cheek. _Crap_. “And also, the second r-reason is, I’m taking money out for all the free beers you keep giving Ramya!”

 _Fuck_ , his pay. He’d been making enough to cover his rent these past few months, leaving his streaming revenue and the occasional withdrawal from his trust fund to go directly into the joint bank account Taejoon had opened up for them, but now that it was getting lowered...his boyfriend was _sure_ to notice that he wasn’t receiving as much money once he had to tap into his other sources of income to pay for rent...and he didn’t think the other man would be happy to hear that Octavio hadn’t really been doing a good job at his, well, _job_.

“I really should’ve fired you,” Elliott moaned, and one of his decoys popped out of nowhere to shush him and pat him comfortingly on his back. “B-but you’re my friend, and you’re expecting, and—”

“Oh, speaking of which,” Octavio cut him off, remembering another one of the reasons he'd come in here. “I’m taking my leave in like, three weeks.”

“...Your leave?”

“You’re operating in Olympus now, so you abide by Olympus rules.” Octavio cocked his head to the side. “I think, legally, you’re required to give me _full_ pay for the next...year? I was just giving you the heads-up now.”

Elliott’s jaw dropped, and after a few silent moments he stuttered out, “I h-have to _what_?”

“Pay me. In full.” 

Elliott looked like he wanted to cry.

After work Octavio came home just as Taejoon was unlocking his apartment door, a bag of take-out hanging from his elbow. It was Thursday evening, and now that he had Fridays off he usually came straight to Octavio's place.

"Hey, bonito, you come here often?" Octavio teased when Taejoon finally noticed him, and his boyfriend smirked a little in response.

"Sorry, I'm taken."

"By who? I promise I'm a fun time." He peered into the bag hanging from the other's elbow and immediately broke character. "Chicken?"

"Fried."

"Oh I fucking _love you._ Marry me."

Taejoon gave a short, weird-sounding laugh as they stepped into his apartment and shut the door behind them. Octavio took the bag from him and immediately started pulling the food out, his stomach rumbling because apparently Hyunjin was a fucking vacuum and could never be satisfied. Both the drinks inside were iced tea, which he snubbed his nose at.

"Ew, tea."

"I'm sorry, were you the one who paid for it?" Taejoon asked, but his tone was teasing. Octavio gave a short sigh as his boyfriend's words reminded him of what had happened today, and he decided to just get this conversation over with.

"Speaking of pay, Mirage is lowering mine."

"... _Why?_ "

"The stupid boat isn't performing well," Octavio said, and well, it was technically the truth. "Which isn't _my_ fault."

Taejoon snorted. "Figures."

There was a lull in conversation as they sorted the food between them, but when they were finally seated on the couch Octavio spoke again.

"But it's not gonna matter, right? We've gotta have enough to move in together now."

"More than enough," Taejoon said quietly, stabbing a piece of chicken with his fork. "I was thinking that during break we could look at some apartments together."

" _Lame._ "

"I want you to have a say."

"I don't really care."

"Octavio," Taejoon said, fixing him with a look. "This is _your_ future too."

He stared at the taller man with wide eyes, stiff with momentary alarm. For a second he feared that Taejoon had figured him out due to the tone of his voice; slightly sharp, a little accusing. For a second he feared that the other could see right through him.

Then his boyfriend's shoulders slumped, and he sighed, "Sorry. I'm just...tired, and it feels like all of the responsibility is on me."

"...Well, I'm not really good with house stuff," Octavio said, keeping his gaze focused on his plate. "I'd accidentally pick a place that's haunted just because it has cool windows."

Taejoon gave a short chuckle, and he smiled too, relieved that the conversation wasn't going to go the direction he thought it would.

"We'll go shopping for furniture once I take my leave as well."

"I'd rather die," Octavio said dryly.

"Do you want Hyunjin to sleep on the bed with _us?_ "

" _No._ "

"Then we're shopping. _Together_."

Octavio groaned around a mouthful of chicken, because that sounded sooooooooo _boring._ Stupid Hyunjin making him do adult things like shop for furniture. He heard Taejoon's phone buzz, and asked, "What's that?" because nobody really texted him aside from, well, him.

Taejoon checked his phone, expression unchanging as he answered, "Nothing important."

Octavio squinted at him, but chose not to pursue the subject. It was probably Natalie or something, eager to talk about babies. For some reason the news of his pregnancy had activated some sort of obsession in her with cute kids. Ramya had sarcastically told him that her girlfriend was now hyperfixated on the prospect of having kids.

"Need ya to hurry up and push the damned thing out," Ramya had told him. "That way she'll see they're loud and she'll get over it."

* * *

Octavio was wiping the bar down one afternoon at work, trying to make it look like he was doing something productive in case Elliott poked his head out of his office, but in actuality the counter wasn’t dirty at all and he was just absent-mindedly running a clean rag over it while he thought of other things.

The break between seasons was soon, which meant they'd be moving into an apartment and buying furniture for Hyunjin in a short matter of time. Octavio had been thinking this a lot recently, but he just wished that this whole situation would _slow down_. This whole pregnancy ordeal was simultaneously slow as molasses yet also fast as fucking...I dunno, whatever the hell _wasn't_ molasses. It felt like just yesterday they'd seen that first ultrasound, and now they were moving in and it felt more _real_ and...

His circular motions against the countertop slowed as he tried to think of the positive side: Taejoon was moving in with him officially, and he was _also_ going on break, which meant he would get to spend more time with him, and his boyfriend would take the edge off his boredom and be there to hold his trembling hands when it all got to be too much. When the craving for something _more_ reared its nasty head and he resented the thing inside him most, Taejoon would be there to remind him why he was going through this.

Right. The Thing Inside Him, officially named Hyunjin. He was _really_ trying to think of the baby more positively. Had gone out of his way to look up videos of babies doing cute things and all that, because hey, kids were actually cute and he didn't loathe them. The ones that interacted with him at fan conventions were definitely the best, mostly because they were _his_ fans. He had fond memories of a little girl proudly showing him the mask she'd made based off of his.

And Octavio had never sought out to be, like, an inspiring figure or anything, but he couldn't deny the warm glow he got from other amputees saying he inspired them, or disabled kids declaring that he was their hero. He liked kids well enough, in _that_ context.

But thinking about actually raising one is where all of the doubt and resentment started coming back. He knew he would fucking suck as a parent because he was everything that one was _not_ supposed to be. He cursed too much and spent most of his free time putting his life in danger and didn't know how to cook. That was like, the three basics of being a parent. Be alive, cook, and also don't say _'fuck'_. 

Octavio had been perfectly fine with the way his life had been going, but now Hyunjin was only a few months away from being like, actually born and he knew now, more than ever, that _nothing_ would be normal after this. He'd be saddled with _responsibility_ , a word he was legally allergic to, and would have to look after a baby when he could barely look after himself. Sure, he would have Taejoon by his side, but...

But he still didn't want this. He _didn't,_ no matter how hard he tried to delude himself into thinking that maybe it wouldn't be _so_ bad, maybe he could teach the kid to do the same crazy stuff he did or something...

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a familiar figure, turning his head just in time to see Ramya skipping aboard, chewing gum and blowing a bright pink bubble as she approached the counter. Bouncier than usual, so something must've happened.

“Afternoon,” she said when it popped, and he tossed aside the rag, thankful for someone to talk to because he’d forgotten his phone at home. Apparently short-term memory was another pregnancy symptom, which, _thanks Hyunjin._ “Alright, mate, you want the good news or the bad news first?”

Raising a pierced brow, he cocked his head to the side and said, “Good news?”

“The good news is: business is booming! I’ve gotten thirty orders today. Rampart’s _back_ in business, baby.” She pumped her fist with a grin, and he rolled his eyes. He thought the good news would be, like, beneficial to _him_. 

“The bad news?” He asked anyways, out of curiosity. 

“Oh, yeah, _so._ Business is booming, which means I’ve got a lot more customers, which means I’ve heard _all_ the gossip.” Ramya gave him a look that he didn’t know how to interpret, now slightly more serious. “And one guy today was full of it."

"Can you get to the point already," Octavio asked dryly.

"Patience! I heard a conspiracy theory that Octane’s the guy who runs the bar on the Mirage Voyage. Crazy, eh?"

His stomach dropped at these words, and he stared at her with wide eyes. People think that he..? But how did they..? 

“ _Que?_ ” He asked aloud, and his friend shrugged.

“Look, mate, you’re a celebrity and droppin’ outta the Games means everyone wants to know where you are. I’m not surprised the first thing they did was look for Legend connections.” Ramya gestured to all of the posters of Elliott plastered to the walls, which were normally comedic, but now their eyes seemed to be boring into him. “They see you here, they see you’ve got metal legs, and the conspiracies start comin’.”

His hand drifted to his tattooed arm, making absolutely sure that it was covered. “But I—”

“If it makes you feel better, I told those plonkers that they were being daft, but people will believe what they wanna believe.” She gave a shrug of her shoulders, and he felt like throwing up, because this was _exactly_ what he had feared would happen, _fuck_. He self-consciously crossed his arms, as if that would hide his stomach from view, as he looked around to make absolutely sure that the the two of them were alone. 

“Do they have any proof?” He hissed, and she threw her hands up.

“Oi, don’t sound so accusing, I just heard about it today. It sounds like a bunch of nonsense to anybody who doesn’t know any better.” Ramya blew another bubble, brows furrowed, before popping it to add, “I’d maybe fake your accent though. Watty said you can do a pretty good Arnold Schwarzenegger impression.”

Octavio let out a huff, unamused, as he tried to fight off the anxiety that was currently crawling up his spine and rooting itself in his brain, because fuck. _Fuck_ , he should’ve known that this would happen sooner or later, why did he take this job when it was so _close_ to the Games, fuck fuck _fuck_. His fucking legs or tattoo or _whatever_ had exposed him, and he wanted to throw up.

More importantly, he wanted to text Taejoon and tell him immediately, wanted to freak the fuck out, but he didn’t have his phone with him and god fucking _damn it_ he was getting pissed off now. _Fuck!_ He hadn’t wanted this to happen, if the public was _ever_ going to find out he wished it would have been _months_ after the baby was born so nobody would see him like _this_ , with the stupid fucking baby bump and weird maternity-paternity- _whatever_ clothes. For fuck’s sake, he was wearing a cardigan today. A _cardigan_.

He tapped his foot anxiously against the wooded floors, trying not to dissolve into panic over this news. _Calm down, Silva,_ he tried telling himself. This was fine. This was going to be fine, because he was taking his leave here in a couple of weeks and then he wouldn’t need to be seen ever again and hopefully those rumors would fade away! His videos were coming out at a steady rate and nobody suspected yet that they had been filmed back in February.

People would see what they thought was him behind the bar counter, and then watch his videos where you could see his flat stomach and think to themselves, _there's no way that's Octane, there's no way no way_ no way—

“You alright, mate?” Ramya asked him, a foreign tinge of concern in her voice, and he remembered to breathe, shoulders heaving slightly.

“Just fine” he said, and she blew another bubble, not looking convinced but not pushing him, either. She eventually left after actually paying for a beer this time around, and when she was gone he stormed off to the DJ room, cranked the music up as loud as it would go, and screamed.

* * *

“You remember the new Legend, right?”

“Uhhhh.” Octavio squinted up at the ceiling, trying to remember her name. He hadn’t watched many of the previous season’s Games, jealousy brewing inside him every time he glimpsed it, plus he'd only known the lady for a couple of months. "Give me a sec. Let me think."

There was a pause.

“V...Verizon?”

Taejoon stared. “Horizon.”

It was Tuesday, and they were both off; the Games were on break, as they were between seasons, and as such Pathfinder was running the bar for Elliott, so Octavio wasn’t needed. Which meant that he had a bunch of nothing to get up to today, in addition to the nothing he already had planned, and he was currently doing nothing on the couch with Taejoon like they had been for months now.

He was getting tired of doing nothing, but he asked anyways,

“What about her?”

“Did you know that she had a son?”

Octavio hadn't known that, but he raised an eyebrow at the wording. “ _‘Had?’_ ”

“He’s dead.”

“Oh.”

“I just thought that you might want to talk to her.” Taejoon scratched at the back of his head, his cheeks that familiar pink color that showed whenever he was getting sheepish. “Since she’s a parent herself.”

“Why would I want parenting advice from someone with a dead son?”

“It’s not like that,” Taejoon said quickly, and Octavio laughed. “You know she was in space, right?"

"Really?"

Taejoon shifted on the couch to look at him more directly, voice now full of disbelief. "Octavio, have you never heard of Dr. Mary Somers?”

“Nope.”

“She was one of your teammates for at least three months.”

“Not ringing any bells.”

“You’re _from_ Olympus.”

“Wait, she’s from Olympus too?”

Taejoon let out a short exhale, and pulled his phone from his pocket. “ _Anyway_. I’ve been talking to her recently.”

“Not about me, right?” Octavio asked sharply, and his boyfriend shook his head, before pausing.

“Well, yes, in a sense, but she doesn’t know it’s _you._ ”

Octavio stared at him, before huffing and crossing his arms, which felt kind of weird with the baby bump right there. (Oh yeah, also, there was now a line running down the middle of his stomach and he had no fucking idea where it had come from. Example fifty-three of the baby ruining his life.)

They sat in silence for a couple of seconds, Taejoon's leg bouncing a little nervously out of the corner of his eye, before his boyfriend finally added,

“I just thought it would be helpful to talk to someone about it."

“Why couldn’t you just talk to your mom?” Octavio groaned, running a hand through his hair, and Taejoon sighed again.

“My mother wasn’t exactly typical.”

“ _So?_ " He finally turned his head to glare at the other man, because he was really. _Really_ fucking anxious about people potentially finding out the truth right now. "You didn’t have to talk to someone I don’t even _know_ about me.”

“I just said she doesn't know it’s you _specifically_ ,” Taejoon stressed, leaning more closely towards him, as if that would reassure him. “It’s been vague between us. She just wants to meet you and talk, but you don’t have t—”

“I _don’t_ want to.”

"You never want to do anything."

Octavio snapped his mouth shut as Taejoon sighed for like, the hundredth time, and he _really_ didn't want to deal with his passive-aggressive bullshit right now, so he got abruptly to his feet and stomped his way to the kitchen, throwing open the door of his fridge and squinting at the contents inside. His vision had been kind of blurry lately—well, blurrier than usual. He technically needed glasses but he was _not_ going to look like a fucking nerd...but aside from that, it'd gotten even worse.

Yet another pregnancy symptom that was actively making everything more complicated for him.

He remembered that he’d run out of Coke yesterday as he stared, confused, at the empty contents of his fridge, before shutting the door. Wandering back into the living room, he stared at Taejoon, who was typing something on his phone. _Right_. He should calm down, because he was about to ask his boyfriend for something, and he probably wouldn't do it if they got mad at each other. He just needed to play nice for a little bit.

“Can you go out and buy me more Coke?” Octavio asked as calmly as he could, but his twitching fingers betrayed him.

Taejoon stopped what he was doing, biting his lower lip, before placing his phone onto his thigh and glancing up at him. “Octavio.”

He raised an eyebrow, bemused. “Yeah?”

“I really think you should stop drinking it.”

He knew this conversation had been coming. He’d seen the way Taejoon’s shoulders heaved with a suppressed sigh every time he grabbed a can from the fridge, knew that his boyfriend deliberately spoke over him whenever he tried ordering food so he could get a water or a juice instead. He knew that it had been coming, but that didn’t make him any happier about it.

“I know you...drink it instead of taking stim,” Taejoon said carefully, but Octavio didn’t respond, just drummed his fingers against the side of his thigh as he bit back a retort. “And I’d much prefer you do this than take it, but drinking so much caffeine while you’re pregnant is risky.”

These past few weeks had fucking _sucked_. Being cooped up inside and going insane in his apartment, only ever leaving to go to his _stupid_ fucking job on the Mirage Voyage, where his pay had been lowered and he had _nothing_ to fucking do, and then there were the rumors that he was the one running the bar despite his best efforts to keep his identity hidden, and now this. Now. _This._

Octavio stared at his boyfriend, trying to figure out something to say. An insult, maybe. An argument. Perhaps some guilt-tripping; _you destroyed my stim and now you want to take away one of the things I use to cope?_

But he just didn’t have the fucking energy. He wanted to fight. He wanted to argue. He was in a bad mood, and Taejoon knew that, and was acting calm which almost pissed him off more because he _knew_ Taejoon was capable of lashing out, knew the other man had a fucking temper and _why won't you lose it with me, fuck you._

So Octavio took a deep breath, and instead said, voice flat, “Fine.”

He watched the way his boyfriend’s head cocked to the side, clearly biting the inside of his cheek. “What do you mea—”

“I said that’s _fucking_ fine.”

_Fine._

He’d find some other way to deal with the tremors and anxiety.

Octavio sat back down on the couch next to his boyfriend, fuming silently, before starting up his video game console in an attempt to calm down. He played mindlessly for several minutes, leg bouncing as he leaned far back against the couch, elbow balanced on the arm as he could no longer have his controller in his lap. 

Octavio’s mood gradually got better as he gave his shaking hands something to do, lost in the world of playing three first-person shooters at once, keeping his brain occupied long enough to forget everything that had been happening to him recently. His pay getting lowered. People thinking he ran the bar. The videos he had set to release slowly dwindling in number.

He tried to forget about it all, because that was what he did best. He was _good_ at pretending that some things had never happened. Got over a lot of fights with his dad that way. Octavio had inherited that certain neglectful attitude from him.

Taejoon eventually scooted closer to him on the couch, as if he’d been waiting for him to cool off, before saying, voice uncharacteristically light,

“I found a few apartments I think you’d like.”

He was clearly trying to change the mood, metaphorically on tip-toe around him. Octavio took a deep breath, and just said,

“Mhm."

“There’s one very close to here, it’s two bedrooms...this one is farther but it’s three bedrooms, so we could have one for our PCs, and...”

Octavio paused what he was doing and looked over at the other man, who was staring down hard at his phone, leg bouncing again. That small, anxious tic that he'd picked up on in addition to the other man shaking out his hands. He felt slightly guilty for what had happened earlier, so he took yet another deep breath, forcing himself to sound light as he asked,

“Didn’t you say there was a penthouse that was nice?”

Taejoon looked up at him, brows furrowed “The _penthouse_?”

“Yeah,” Octavio said. He’d wanted to move into one when he found out he’d be coming back here, but hadn’t felt like going through the hassle of apartment-hunting, so he’d just taken a place at one of the complexes recommended to him by the staff—unlike Taejoon, who’d gone out of his way to find a smaller, more secluded house. “The one with four bedrooms.”

“That one is...ah.” Taejoon rubbed at the back of his neck again, sucking his cheeks in. “Well, we _could_ afford it, but we wouldn’t be able to save as much.”

Octavio snorted. “Why would we need to save?”

“For Hyunjin,” Taejoon said, like it was obvious. “We should save money for them. What if they need glasses, or hearing aids, or they’re diabetic, or—”

“You worry too much,” Octavio told him.

“I’m just being prepared.”

“Just get the penthouse, cariño. If the kid needs stuff, I’ll just take money from my trust fund.”

“I was hoping to build Hyunjin’s own.”

“Oh my god, do you hear yourself right now?” Octavio laughed, tossing his controller aside. “ _One_ trust fund baby in the house is enough.”

Taejoon didn’t seem quite as amused, which, fine, whatever, _be_ a wet blanket. He was trying to lighten the mood from earlier, but apparently it wasn’t working. 

“I know you’re worried about the money, but once I get reinstated back in the Games, dinero won’t be a problem,” Octavio told him, and Taejoon opened his mouth, closed it, and then nodded.

“Right. The Games.” He sounded a little hesitant. “Speaking of which...you..."

He trailed off, before shaking his head. "I think I’m going to take my leave next month, too. I’d have to tell the higher-ups we’re together, though."

Octavio stared at him, before rolling his eyes. “As long as everyone else doesn’t find out.”

“They won’t. Once we're both on leave, we can move.” Taejoon looked back down at his phone, scrolling through the page he was on, before resting his head on Octavio’s shoulder, which made him feel nice, even if he'd been angry only an hour before. “Are you _sure_ you want the penthouse?”

Octavio started to respond, but right at that moment he felt a kick against his belly. He’d been sitting still for so long that Hyunjin must’ve woken up and started attacking him. _Asshole._

“Yeah,” he said, looking down at his middle. “The baby agrees, too.”

Taejoon looked up at him, confused, so he grabbed his boyfriend’s hand and guided it to his stomach, hoping that today would be the day he’d finally be able to feel it. He’d been doing this whenever he felt the baby moving around, half-convinced sometimes that he had been imagining things because Taejoon kept saying _I can’t feel anything_. But now he watched the older man’s eyes widen by a fraction as Hyunjin moved around again, and his body was overcome with that weird jittery sensation that happened whenever he felt the baby.

Having a real, living thing inside of you that you could feel moving was kind of terrifying—but that nauseating feeling ebbed away as he took note of the way Taejoon’s whole body had relaxed, no longer as tense as he’d previously been. There was the slightest tilt to the corner of his mouth, a smile he almost didn’t seem to realize was there.

“Can you feel it?” Octavio asked, and Taejoon nodded.

"Yeah. They're..." Hyunjin kicked again, and his boyfriend laughed, _genuinely_ laughed in a way he didn't hear much. Fluttery, almost, high-pitched and nearly a giggle. " _Active_."

"Mini-me."

"Don't say that. That's terrifying." Despite his words he was smiling, and Octavio smiled back.

Taejoon then shifted on the couch again so that he could kiss Octavio briefly, and when he pulled away Octavio placed his hand on top of Taejoon's, wanting to move it away from him, but his boyfriend turned his palm over and intertwined their fingers together.

"I'm sorry about your soda," Taejoon said quietly. "I just..."

"Worry," Octavio finished for him, and his boyfriend nodded. "About stupid shit."

"It's not stupid," Taejoon argued, and Octavio laughed. He figured that he should maybe apologize too, but he didn't know what for, exactly. So instead, he said,

"It's fine, babe. We’re gonna be okay.”

He’d mostly said it to reassure himself; that despite his anger today and the things that had been happening recently, it was going to turn out fine. Because he loved Taejoon, he really did, even if he was in a sour mood most of the time and was having a kid he didn’t want and was now having his caffeine taken away in addition to his other hobbies and...

“Yeah,” Taejoon mumbled, leaning his head against his shoulder again, and if Octavio didn’t know any better he’d almost think that he’d needed the reassurance too. “We’re going to be okay.”

Taejoon's phone buzzed between them, and Octavio saw the name of the person texting him now, flashing clearly across the top of his screen: Dr. Mary.

He let his head fall back, their joined hands still on top of his belly, but he slowly shifted them so that they were resting on Taejoon's thigh instead as he debated with himself. Talking to her...would _maybe_ help. If she'd already had a kid before, she'd know how to shut them up if they got too loud and all that. He was just worried that the other Legends would find out, and...

Well...

You know what? Half of them knew at this point, and the other half were bound to find out the truth eventually. Octavio couldn't believe he was thinking this, but you know what? _Fuck it._ Leap of faith. He was known for making crazy, wild jumps. He would just consider this one of them.

"You can tell the others," Octavio rushed out before he could change his mind, voice coming out at a strange pitch. Taejoon hummed, questioning. "About us. And about. Me."

He had expected Taejoon to have a strong reaction to these words. Maybe jump up and ask if he was okay, or immediately reach for his phone to tell Natalie that she could spill the beans. Instead, his boyfriend just lifted their hands up to his face, and brushed his lips lightly over Octavio's knuckles.

"You can make that choice when you're ready," he said, and fuck, he'd _really_ been hoping to lift that responsibility off his own shoulders because he did _not_ want to be the one to say it. The idea of texting everyone _'I'm pregnant lol'_ or whatever was mortifying, because there was no way he was going to say that shit out loud.

He had wanted to dump all of that shit into Taejoon's lap and then run off so he wouldn't have to deal with it himself, but his boyfriend was being sweet and that was so fucking annoying. And endearing. But _mostly_ annoying.

"Alright," Octavio finally said, before poking Taejoon in his cheek. "But we _better_ get that penthouse."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like both a lot and also not a lot happened in this chapter. im sowwy NKFJNWKJFNKFNKNFKJ


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for taking so long :(((
> 
> tws:  
> -past child abuse and neglect  
> -mentions of weight gain

_Octavio Silva has added Ajay Che, Anita Williams, Bloodhound (Bloodhound), Loba Andrade, and 9 others to the chat._

_Anita W: What’s this_

_Octavio S: hey gays_

_Anita Williams has left the chat._

_Octavio Silva has added Anita Williams to the chat._

_Octavio S: NOOOOOOOO STAY_

_Anita W: Jesus Christ, what is it?_

_Octavio S: ummm_

_Octavio S: did u miss me_

_Renee B: you haven’t shown up in months. this is the first time you’ve spoken to any of us since february._

_Octavio S: is that a yes_

_Renee B: no._

_Natalie P: Oh my..._

_Natalie P: Is this what I think it is? :D_

_Ramya P: ohoHO_

_Ramya P: i think someone’s about to owe me money_

_Loba A: Don’t get too excited, Parekh, he hasn’t even said it._

_Anita W: Silva, what’s taking you so long_

_Anita W: Get to the point_

_Ajay C: Lord, I just woke up_

_Renee B: i’ve got stuff to do. path, let me know what’s up later._

_MRVN P: OKAY!_

_MRVN P: I LOVE BEING INVOLVED IN GROUP MESSAGES WITH ALL OF MY BEST FRIENDS._

_MRVN P: THAT’S YOU GUYS!_

_Anita W: Silva._

_Octavio S: okkkkkk fine_

_Octavio S: i was just letting u guys know im probably gonna be out for like...another six months ill try 2 come back asap_

_Ajay C: Only 6?_

_Ajay C: But you get a whole year of PTO right?_

_Loba A: You know what’s up?_

_Ajay C: Think so..._

_Anita W: And?_

_Octavio S: jaja_

_Octavio S: ok anyways im pregnant bye_

_Octavio Silva has left the chat._

_Ajay C: Sigh_

_Anita W: SILVA???????????_

_Ramya P: @Loba i expect the cash to be in my account by tomorrow morning_

_Loba A: You cheated. I don’t know how but you cheated_

_Loba A: But well played._

* * *

Leg jittering uncontrollably as he sat at the edge of his bathtub, Octavio stared down at his phone, mind feeling like it was about to implode. His body was stuck in a sort of fight-or-flight mode, several days without caffeine fucking up his energy levels and making him feel constantly anxious. He'd been on the cusp of doing this several times already, but every single time he'd chickened out, not wanting to face the judgment and criticisms of others—but he'd finally given in today. Finally sent the words and left the groupchat, leaving them to make fun of him.

Not that any of them would make fun of him...or would they? He could already hear Anita's voice admonishing him for fucking up his body and gaining weight, could hear Loba teasing him about love and Makoa looking at him differently. Like he was fragile. Like he could be broken.

He wasn't fragile. He was _Octavio Silva_ , he told himself, biting harshly on the beds of his nails as he kept entering the messaging app and then leaving before re-entering. A few of them had messaged him privately, probably asking if this was some sort of joke or if he was being real. A few had never really caught onto the fact that he was trans, so he could imagine that this was a double blow for them.

Octavio wanted to read the messages, but something held him back. He wasn't fragile, but right now he felt like he was on the verge of breaking. A glass full of water with a build-up of pressure inside, fine cracks running across its smooth surface. That was him, and he felt like reading what his friends and colleagues had to say about him would cause him to shatter.

He got to his feet a little unsteadily, wondering if he could secretly order breakfast plus a thing of Coke before Taejoon woke up, but he didn't want to get into a fight like the last time he'd done that. He didn't think he could handle arguing today. He felt finite.

Octavio crawled into bed with his boyfriend, curling up beside him and moving his arm so that he was nestled right beneath him. It was a slightly awkward angle, accommodating for his stomach, but he just needed to feel... _vulnerable_. For a moment. Let himself be raw and exposed yet comforted by Taejoon, who was sound asleep beside him. He'd get up in a couple of minutes and pace laps in his living room, but for now he curled his fingers into the fabric of Taejoon's shirt and tried not to think about the fact that _they know now._

* * *

After the stunt that Octavio had pulled, Taejoon spent the last week before break (and his leave) waiting for the other Legends to somehow read his mind and connect the dots, figuring out the truth. 

He was sure that some of the others had thought his boyfriend was joking at first, but once Ajay had confirmed the truth of his statement, nobody had quite known how to react. He understood, somewhat. Octavio had dropped that bombshell on them without _any_ elaboration, and had done it at six in the morning when most of them were sleeping or only half-awake.

His boyfriend hadn’t even told Taejoon that he’d planned on doing it—he went to bed and then woke up to over a dozen new messages on his phone, the names of his fellow Legends flashing across the screen.

Reading through them quickly tipped him off as to what had happened, and if he was being completely honest it wasn’t uncharacteristic of Octavio to do it in this way. Taejoon didn’t know why he’d been expecting a big announcement of some sort; _this_ was much more Octavio-like.

None of them knew he was involved, though, as Octavio had added him to the chat like normal and didn't mention him at all.

Which brought him to the current day: Wednesday, Octavio’s twenty-seventh week and right before he was to enter his third trimester. It felt like everything in his life was teetering on the very edge of something momentous—it all seemed more real than ever now, with them moving in together in a few short weeks and September being only two months away.

Taejoon feared that it could all be read on his face; everything that was happening or was _about_ to happen to him, and this in addition to the team still being a little shaken up after Octavio’s news left him too wary to talk to any of them, afraid they'd figure him out.

 _Especially_ Makoa, whom Taejoon was terrified of because he was pretty sure that the guy was onto him. He was the only one who had run into the two of them together after Octavio had started his break, and he felt as though the larger man had been watching him during today’s match. There was an uncomfortable prickling situation at the back of his neck throughout the entirety of it, and when it was over he secluded himself inside a hall closet in order to escape everyone else's prying gaze.

Dr. Mary had figured it out already, though it had taken her a couple of days. She texted him out of the blue, ‘ _this is just a guess, but is Mr. Silva your partner_?’ to which he’d responded with a short ‘ _yes_ ’. She never brought it up after that, and everyone who knew already hadn’t mentioned that he was involved with Octavio. Not even Witt, which was surprising, but he supposed that the idiot must have _some_ experience with keeping relationships a secret since he was dating Bloodhound...supposedly.

(Taejoon stared at Bloodhound from across the dropship, watching them sharpen their knife with narrowed eyes. Not that he cared about the lives and interpersonal relationships of his fellow Legends all that much, but he was curious, and wanted to know if Octavio’s hunch was correct.

Their bird—Arthur, was it?—flew over, carrying silver dogtags in its mouth that resembled Anita’s. Bloodhound lifted their hand to brush their finger lightly against its face, almost as if they were rewarding the bird for its find, and without even looking in his direction they asked coolly,

“Is there something you wish to say to me, Crypto?”

“No,” he lied, and they hummed.

“Well, to answer your unasked question—you’ll have to find out.”

He squinted at them even more. They were _very_ good at keeping secrets. It drove him fucking insane.)

Speaking of them, he heard the _thump_ of Bloodhound’s boots walking past his hiding place in the closet, knees drawn up to his chest as he tried to relax. Maybe crouching down in a tiny space would worsen other people’s feelings of being cornered, but he found it comforting. There could be no eyes on him in here, nobody trying to pick him apart and see the truth.

He had planned on just leaving without announcing his departure—had the doctor’s note proving Octavio’s pregnancy to the gamemakers stuffed in his pocket, was going to hand it to them today and start packing up his stuff tomorrow. But he knew that if anyone had half a brain they’d put two and two together and link his leave with Octavio's, and he was currently arguing with himself on whether he should just tell them all point-blank or run away. He was used to running.

Maybe they could help the two of them move into their new apartment. He’d always hated moving, often lost track of his things amidst the boxes, and since both he and Octavio were moving into one place together it would mean double the amount to keep track of. He could use Loba and Natalie’s sorting skills as well as Anita and Makoa’s strength.

But he didn’t want any of them to know his new address...they didn’t even know his _old_ one...he liked his privacy, and this wasn’t going to change that...plus, he had written his old address on the doctor’s note so _they_ wouldn’t find out his new place, and there was always a chance that they could torture the information out of his friends...

(“Why,” Octavio had asked him last night, stacking every single videogame disc case he owned into a tower, “Do you always think on the _extreme_ side of things?”

“Because one of us has to,” Taejoon said, staring hard at the list of hospitals he'd pulled up. He was running background checks on all of them.

“”Joon. I _highly_ doubt assassins will be masquerading as midwives.”

He glanced up at his boyfriend. “You don’t know that for sure.”)

Taejoon bit down on the nail of his thumb, going over every possible outcome in his head, when the hall closet door suddenly flew open and he found himself flinching at the sudden bright light. A huge shadow stood before him, and as his gaze slowly made its way up to the person's face he realized with dread who it must be.

“There you are, brotha! Knew you’d be hunkered down in here.” 

The next thing he knew, Makoa was throwing him over his shoulder like he was nothing more than a sack of potatoes, Taejoon letting out an embarrassing squeak at the sudden way he was being handled.

"I found him!" Makoa called.

"Bring him in here!" Anita's voice commanded, and he was carried out into the main area of the dropship before being sat down on one of the couches. When Makoa stepped away, he saw that everyone was looking at him expectantly.

He stared back, fingers curling into the plush leather beneath him, before he tumbled off the couch and attempting to scramble away because he was _very_ nervous about—whatever the _hell_ they were doing.

“Not so fast!” Anita’s voice came, and he found himself being lifted up by the collar of his jacket like he was a kitten. Now that Octavio was gone, Taejoon was officially the shortest guy on the team, and he truly felt like it as he desperately tried to get his toes to touch the ground. “C’mon, Kim, don’t you have something to say?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Taejoon said defensively. The numbing panic hadn’t quite set in all the way yet, but it was fast-approaching as he thought to himself that they had _figured it out_ , they knew somehow, had pried him apart and read his secrets and knew his _identity_ and—

“I’m so sorry, Hyeon,” Natalie piped up from where she was standing nervously beside the couch, staring down at her twiddling thumbs. “I—I got excited by Octavio’s news and I a-accidentally...”

Realizing what had happened, Taejoon sighed, fists clenching at his sides. He was somewhat disappointed in her, but at the same time he was also relieved that _he_ didn’t have to be the one to announce the news...even if he hadn’t quite come to a conclusion on whether to do so or not yet. He glared up at others who were still watching him, seeing Witt's stupid grin and Ajay's worried frown.

"C'mon, Cryppy, spill the beans already!" Witt jeered, and he made a mental note to change the password on the other man's phone later.

“Fine,” he finally hissed, and Anita finally dropped him back onto his feet. “Octavio and I are...”

The words got stuck in his throat, but Renee finished his sentence for him:

"Together."

The way she said it made it sound so _final_ , somehow. Set in stone. Renee's words always had a ring of foretold truth in them, and hearing it come from her directly made him feel weird.

"For how long?" Loba asked curiously.

"...A year," he mumbled, trying not to meet any of their gazes. "Only Natalie knew."

There was a pause, and then Loba let out a short laugh, causing everyone to glance over at her.

“It’s quite the unexpected pairing, but congratulations.” She examined the nails on her fingers, an arch to her brow that spoke of trouble. “I’ll be interested to see where _this_ goes...because once you start having babies, you don’t want to stop.”

Ajay looked disgusted by these words. “Don’t say that.”

“Sorry. Just trying to make everyone as uncomfortable as I can.” She smiled sharply. “Because now I _know_ Parekh cheated.”

“You have no proof,” Ramya replied, sounding bored, sitting upside down on the couch and chewing a mouthful of gum.

“Your girlfriend knowing means you did too, dear. I want my money back.”

“Man, _I_ wanted to be the one to tell everyone,” Witt complained, and Renee hit him on the back of his head. "What was that for?!"

"Stop meddling," was all she said.

"I won the deal fair and square," Ramya said innocently, and Loba must have done something that Taejoon didn't see because Anita said with caution,

"Take it easy, girl, put the staff down..."

While everyone kept talking back-and-forth to one another, arguing, Taejoon tried to edge out of the room, wanting to tell Octavio the news, but he was stopped by Makoa placing his hand on his shoulder.

“I know it’s all a bit much, Hyeon, but if you two need any help—give Uncle Gibby a call!”

“Right,” he said stiffly, and tried to maneuver himself out from beneath the other man’s touch, filled with nervous energy. “I have things to attend to, so—”

Taejoon tore himself away from the group and made a beeline for his room, yanking the curtain shut as he dug around looking for his phone. When he found it nestled beneath his pillow, where he always left it, he opened up he and Octavio’s chat history, pondering how to break this news to him—before sighing and letting his head drop, running a hand through his hair.

On the one hand, he was glad that he hadn’t needed to be the one to say the news. Taejoon knew that the others weren’t dumb, and would have figured him out sooner or later and confronted him about it, and he had wanted to avoid that as long as possible. But the looming sense of it would have driven him insane, so ripping the metaphorical band-aid off quickly like this was better for him, mental-health wise. Even if everyone was currently being _insufferable_ about it.

He called Octavio, but the other man didn’t answer—which he wasn’t surprised by, because he usually took a nap around this time of day, tired constantly since Hyunjin was very active at night. He left a voicemail for him, a short ‘ _they know_ ’ before hanging up, and by the time he put his phone away a familiar face was poking past his curtain to get a look at him.

“Evening, dear,” Dr. Mary said, and he bowed his head to her slightly in greeting. “Octavio is his name, isn't it?”

“Right,” he said, putting his hands in his pockets. It felt strange to be talking so openly, after over a year of secrecy regarding it, but it was also somewhat...cathartic to say it out loud. _Octavio is my partner._

“Oh, I’d only known him a short while, but I think he’ll be an excellent father,” she said with a smile, fiddling with her pen—she seemed to go everywhere with that thing. “So much energy! And have you told him about me?”

“I have,” Taejoon said, trying not to meet her eyes as he recalled the argument that had followed. “He wasn’t very...receptive.”

That was putting it lightly. Octavio seemed hellbent on not having to make any major decisions when it came to things like moving in together or choosing the baby's name, and it always ended up in a fight of some sort. Taejoon had left a catalogue of baby furniture on the other's desk and asked him to circle things for him to look into, only to come back and find that it had been turned into a papier-mâché grenade. He had been simultaneously impressed and annoyed.

Octavio's avoidance of such things extended to talking to other people about it, even though Taejoon had told him that it would be beneficial in the long run. He knew that there were many personal and dysphoric reasons for Octavio to not want to talk to Dr. Mary, but he had been hoping his boyfriend would at least do it for Hyunjin—with no such luck.

“I’m sorry to hear that!" She said, giving me a sympathetic look. "I hope I didn’t make him uncomfortable, poor dear.”

They’d been talking more and more recently, but he still felt slightly awkward around her. At least he now had a better grasp on what to expect when Hyunjin was born, but he didn’t like to be around her any longer than necessary because she was somewhat overbearing. She was motherly in nature, and for someone who often sought privacy this was a little annoying.

Taejoon talked to her for a couple more minutes before she wandered off towards Natalie, who was still looking somewhat put-out by her earlier slip-up and avoiding Taejoon’s eyes. He was just wondering if he should talk to her about it later when his phone buzzed, and he immediately took it out of his pocket to see if it was his boyfriend.

_Octavio: u mean they didnt already know_

_Me: no? we never told them._

_Octavio: oh i thought u would have told them_

_Octavio: after i did_

_Octavio: The Thing_

_Octavio: thats why i left lol_

_Me: thanks._

_Octavio: ur welcome babe_

_Me: everything okay?_

_Octavio: tired_

_Octavio: andddd_

_Octavio: horny ;)_

_Me: your hand is perfectly functioning._

_Octavio: UR SO MEAN 2 ME_

_Octavio: also my legs hurt :(_

_Me: use your chair._

_Octavio: >:(_

_Me: or lay down. stop putting stress on them._

_Octavio: uggggg but thats boring_

_Octavio: wait babe_

_Octavio: tmrw will u get me_

_Octavio: fries_

_Octavio: and shake_

_me: okay._

_Octavio: pweeeeeeeaaaaase_

_Octavio: YAY_

_Me: i take it back._

_Octavio: wtf_

_Octavio: i want 2 get married_

_Octavio: so i can divorce u_

_Octavio: crypto apex legends will u marry me?_

_Me: yes. absolutely._

_Octavio: ok <3_

_Octavio: Divorce._

_Octavio: JAJAJAJA just kidding plz bring me fries for real tho_

_Me: okay. i’ll move your furniture around for you tomorrow._

_Octavio: good cuz im not doing that shit by myself_

_Octavio: im playing games rn_

_Octavio: luv u bye_

_Me: love you too._

_Me: :)_

* * *

These past few weeks were the absolute worst amongst his pregnancy, so far.

He was something like thirty weeks in; before this Octavio had dreaded the moment that Hyunjin would be born, knowing it would mean he had to be _responsible_ for them and take care of them. Now, he couldn’t _wait_ for the little bastard to get _out_ of him. _ASAP_.

Everything _sucked_ right now. He was tired constantly, his back hurt and so did his general pelvis area (Farah had started explaining it to him, but it was so horrifying that his brain had blanked out for the rest of the conversation), his stumps were irritated from the new extra weight, he was having constant heartburn, and Hyunjin was an _asshole_ who kept kicking him in unpleasant places that actually, genuinely _hurt_.

Taejoon was officially on break from the Games and had helped push Octavio’s furniture around to make his apartment more accessible, since he was using his wheelchair more often, though his boyfriend was not yet used to where everything was and kept accidentally running into things. Last Friday the other man had been walking while staring at his phone and tripped right into Octavio’s coffee table, which had split in half, so that was funny while it had happened—but Octavio didn’t laugh for _too_ long, because he realized at that exact moment that his bladder was weaker and laughing had made that fact apparent to him.

So _that_ was fun.

They were moving next week—Taejoon had initially wanted him to come see the new place before they started packing, which Octavio had protested against, not wanting to go out in public like this, but his boyfriend kept needling him about it before he gave in and begrudgingly agreed.

On the day they were to meet up with the building owners, Octavio had been in the kitchen getting a glass of orange juice—when an uncomfortable sensation made him stiffen up and the cup slipped through his fingers, landing hard against the edge of the counter and causing it to break in half with the sound of shattering glass.

Taejoon came running out of the bedroom, eyes wide as Octavio grit his teeth and gripped the handle of the fridge tightly, body rigid from the feeling of _whatever_ was happening to him. It was somehow painful yet also not, a sharp, tightening feeling that made him unable to move.

“What’s wrong?” Taejoon asked, and Octavio placed his hand beneath his abdomen, where the feeling was originating.

“Fuck—I dunno, there’s just—”

He took a step away from where the juice was spreading on the floor, and as he moved the sensation lessened. He took another step, and realized that with every movement the tight feeling was letting up until he felt almost normal again. His face felt flushed for some odd reason, and when Taejoon crossed the room to stand beside him he leaned against his boyfriend for support.

“You okay?”

“I need to sit down,” Octavio said, and the words felt foreign on his tongue, but he stumbled to the crowded dining table and managed to seat himself in one of the chairs that wasn’t covered in stuff. He felt much better now, though he was embarrassed because of the mess he’d made and the fact that Taejoon was still looking at him with concern. 

“I’m fine,” Octavio said, trying not to meet his eyes, and Taejoon took his hand into his. “It just felt like—”

“Like a contraction?”

Octavio shrugged helplessly. “I guess.”

Taejoon nodded but didn’t further elaborate, so Octavio figured that this was another thing that he was supposed to know about but had forgotten. Just like he had been told that Hyunjin might elbow him in the ribs one day, and then it had happened and he’d thought he was having a heart attack.

Taejoon carded his fingers through his hair, being gentle with him, which normally would have annoyed him after his show of momentary weakness, but this time he leaned into his boyfriend's touch. There was something weird about his expression; a softness that permeated his gaze and made Octavio feel somewhat exposed.

He reached up to take Taejoon's hand; not moving it away from his face, just keeping it there so he wouldn't pull away. His boyfriend looked him up and down, a crease in his brow, before he lifted his other hand so that now the both of them were cupping his face.

"You should stay home today," Taejoon murmured, which was fine with Octavio, so he nodded. The other man kissed him then, lips sweet, and it hit Octavio that they were about to move in together and he'd be experiencing _this_ way more often. 

He let his eyes drift shut, enjoying this momentary bliss. They were both so still, which normally would have driven him nuts, but being still with Taejoon didn't _suck_ like it would with anyone else. Kissing Taejoon was like scratching an itch or satisfying a craving, and he couldn't get enough of him.

Taejoon left shortly after that, and Octavio fell asleep on the couch and woke up later to his boyfriend once again tripping over something he’d forgotten had been moved. The next morning Taejoon went out again to get them cardboard boxes, which brings him to the current day—staring blankly at his half-packed apartment and not knowing what exactly to do.

Octavio had thrown basically whatever into the boxes; as long as it fit, it was going inside. His clothes and video games and a few files of paperwork that he never looked at were all inside one box, while two of his video game consoles were crammed into another box that was also filled with the contents of a desk draw that he stuffed random things into—including a roll of duct tape and a jawbreaker he’d grown bored of sucking on. He’d at least thrown the jawbreaker away...after giving it a tentative lick to see if it still tasted good.

(It did not.)

But now that he’d packed away the easy stuff, he was at a loss for how to pack the rest of it. He usually had people from the Games move his stuff for him, so this was new ground he had yet to cover. The good news was that he was sort of lazy and had never gotten around to unpacking a few of those boxes from when he'd moved in _here_ , so while he had no idea what was in those, at least they were already packed for him.

He reached for his phone, wanting to call Taejoon and ask for his help. His boyfriend _must_ be done packing by now, his apartment was super small...

But his phone wasn’t in his pocket. Groaning, Octavio wandered around his apartment, looking everywhere for it. On the counters, between the couch cushions, in the bathroom, even opening the fridge door to peek inside in case he’d accidentally placed it there when grabbing a bottle of water—yet there was no sign of it. 

Feeling frustrated, Octavio dug a hardly-used boxcutter out from his bathroom draw and stomped his way to the living room...or rather, awkwardly shuffled. One could not easily stomp when they were pregnant. Standing before the boxes he’d already finished, he cut through the duct tape and searched inside them, pulling things out to get a good look in the corners of them, but still coming up empty-handed.

“Where the hell-?” He complained out loud, moving onto the next box—but he accidentally shifted it too suddenly when trying to rifle through it, and ended up knocking the box over from the couch cushion it’d been placed precariously on.

Octavio heard the sound of something breaking, and he let the boxcutter drop to his feet, staring at the box on the floor. He couldn’t see the state of his consoles, but his controller had slid out and there were tiny black pieces scattered against the wood that belonged to it. 

Octavio took a deep breath, trying to will the frustration away, which was building up inside him and making his face burn. _Don't cry don't cry don't cry._

He heard his phone ring, and closed his eyes. Hand drifting to his opposite pocket, the one he hadn’t checked, he felt his phone there. 

_Fuck_.

In a fit of anger he yanked his phone from his pocket and threw it hard at his TV, feeling immense satisfaction when it made contact and put a large dent in the surface, two thin cracks stemming from the place of impact. Fuck, _everything_ was broken now, wasn’t it? His coffee table, his consoles, his phone, his TV. Despite knowing he’d been responsible for most of those things, he felt a surge of anger towards his boyfriend as he picked his phone back up, letting out a huff at the difficulty he had bending down because _everything_ fucking _sucked_ right now.

His phone screen hadn’t cracked, thank god for heavy-duty protective cases, but he felt like taking a hammer to its screen when he saw that the caller was Taejoon. Octavio glared, wanting so badly to hang up on him, but the frustrated itch from earlier was climbing up his spine again and it compelled him to finally answer the phone, hissing out,

“ _What_.”

There was a pause. He could hear what sounded like distant traffic.

Then, “...Are you okay?”

Octavio’s shoulders slumped, and he stepped over the fallen box on the floor, collapsing onto the couch as the increasingly familiar feeling of fatigue hit him. Moments of anger like these had increased in frequency, but just as quickly as it had come, it was fading away, leaving only exhaustion.

“I need help,” he said quietly, and Taejoon hummed.

“I’m on my way.”

When the other man got there Octavio made up a story about how the TV got damaged, and though Taejoon cocked an eyebrow as he told it, he didn’t say anything. His boyfriend went through the boxes he’d already packed and rearranged them for him as Octavio threw out those two consoles, glad he at least hadn’t broken his most-used one. But with his TV in its current state, he wouldn’t be able to enjoy playing games as often...well, he’d been wanting a bigger TV anyways.

"Have you ever packed before?" Taejoon asked him.

"Nope," he said as he dug around in his pantry for a bag of chips.

"I can tell."

Octavio stuck his tongue out at him, and his boyfriend responded with a grin as he finished taping a box shut.

After about ten minutes Octavio sat back and let Taejoon do most of the packing for him, content to watch his boyfriend shuffle about and bend over. The man was wearing a black shirt today, so his muscles look great whenever he lifted something heavy, and Octavio made flirty comments and catcalls throughout the whole process.

"Hey there, handsome," Octavio teased, swinging his legs back and forth. "You come here often?"

"That's the third time you've used that line this month."

"And I'll use it again."

“You know, you could at _least_ do the small stuff,” Taejoon said as he finished getting the TV off the stand, sweating just a little bit from all the activity.

“Why?" Octavio asked. "I’ve got the best seats in the house.”

“And what are you watching, exactly?”

“Your ass.”

“I thought you said my ass was flat,” Taejoon said dryly.

“It is, but _damn_ , those jeans work wonders for you, cariño.” Octavio bounced his eyebrows, placing an elbow on the edge of his kitchen table as he exaggeratedly looked his boyfriend up and down. “And I don’t mind the cleavage, either.”

Taejoon glanced down at his muscled chest—for some reason his boyfriend had an affinity for low necklines, but he was _not_ complaining. It was good eye candy.

He watched the man’s face flush a little more, and smirked. He liked making him turn red. Liked making his boyfriend shed the cool guy persona and be the fucking loser he truly was.

"We'll have enough time for flirting when we move in," Taejoon said, not looking at him.

"Why can't we flirt right now?"

"We have stuff to do. It can wait."

Octavio slid off his seat, approaching the other man. Normally he would have pressed up against him, chest-to-chest, but it was a bit hard to do that with a baby bump in the way, so he grabbed the front of Taejoon's shirt and pulled him down so that they were eye-to-eye, his heart thumping.

"You know I hate waiting," he said, doing his best to make his voice little more than a purr, and judging by the way his boyfriend's eyes flickered down to his lips he had succeeded.

He didn't know when he'd become concupiscent, as he'd been angry and frustrated a mere hour before, but all he knew was that he wanted to kiss Taejoon right now, let his hands wander and feel the other man like he'd been wanting to do for a while now. The anticipation of this break, of Taejoon's official leave, had left him longing for physical contact, and he was going to get it.

"...What do you want to do?" Taejoon asked, as if reading his mind, and Octavio lifted his chin.

"Kiss me."

Taejoon did so almost instantly, angling his head to kiss him deeply as one of his hands placed itself on Octavio's hip, thumb dipping past the waistband of his shorts a little and making him shiver at the contact, that particular area sensitive. He bit lightly on Taejoon's lower lip, heard the other's breath hitch as his boyfriend's fingers started to slide further down his pants and—

" _Fuck_!" Octavio yelped, pushing away from Taejoon, clutching at a stitch in his side that he quickly realized was Hyunjin kicking him in the ribs again. He gave a groan as he straightened up, hoping that his slightly awkward position from earlier was the cause of the pain, but it prevailed even after he had adjusted his stance.

"What happened? Does it hurt?" Taejoon asked, concerned, and with grit teeth he replied,

"I dunno, Taejoon, _you_ try having someone kick you in the fucking chest."

"You should go lay down," his boyfriend advised, before taking him gently by the elbow and guiding him to his room. "The move is in two days. We'll have plenty of time to finish packing."

"I don't care about the move," Octavio complained as his boyfriend helped pull his shirt over his head and replacing it with a nightshirt. "I wanted to have sex."

"I'd rather not when you're in pain."

He wanted to protest, but it _really_ hurt, and all he could do was lay back in the bed. He tried stretching his arms above his head, hoping that the movement would shift Hyunjin away from that area, but he could still feel them there.

"Your baby is an asshole," Octavio told Taejoon. 

"Our baby." Taejoon smiled a little. "They take after you, then."

"Oh, fuck off."

Taejoon gave a short laugh, before sitting at the edge of the bed and giving him a look. It was another one of those weird looks that he didn't know how to interpret, so he asked,

"What?"

"Have you ever thought about getting married?"

Taken aback, Octavio stared at him with wide eyes, mouth slightly parted. The honest answer was _yes,_ but this question had come out of nowhere, so all he did was stutter out, "N-no?"

The other man nodded, not looking very surprised. He placed one of his hands gently on Octavio's thigh, taking a breath as if to say something. There was a pause, and then he exhaled, getting back to his feet.

"Never mind. Let me know if it continues hurting."

His boyfriend left to go finish packing, and Octavio stared after him, a million questions bursting inside him. Deciding that if he thought about it for too long his head would explode, he instead chose to stare at the ceiling, wondering what life was about to be like for the both of them.

Though he'd been dreading Hyunjin's birth before all this, now, he really couldn't wait until the stupid kid was out. He wanted his body back. He wanted to stop all these mood swings. He wanted to get it on with Taejoon without having to worry about his libido getting messed up halfway through or getting bullied by a fucking infant.

He placed his hand on his stomach, where he could feel the fucker moving around, yet there was still a spot of hurt in his ribs, so they weren't moving in a way that mattered.

"You better come out as fast as you fucking can," he said gruffly to the empty room, and as if responding to him, Hyunjin kicked again.

* * *

Makoa helped them move to their new place, carrying all their heavy things onto the elevator with ease as Octavio looked around the building, where he saw sleek glass and potted plants with their leaves colored gold. There was a front desk, a fountain in the lobby, and an elevator that required a key code. Pretty standard Olympian stuff.

Taejoon, however, kept looking at everything with wide eyes even though he must’ve seen this place several times already, and Octavio nudged his boyfriend in the ribs during their elevator ride up.

“What’s with the look?” He teased.

“I never pictured myself living in a place like this,” his boyfriend said quietly, but didn’t elaborate, so he didn't pursue. Octavio looked at the elevator buttons instead—this place had thirty floors, and they lived at the very top.

“It’s not _that_ fancy,” Octavio said. “Che used to live in a skyscraper.”

“Octavio, this place has a gym and a bar.”

“But that’s pretty standard for apartment buildings, right?”

Makoa disguised a laugh as a cough behind his hand, and Octavio squinted up at him. He’d been wary of letting the other man see him like this, had practically hidden in his bedroom when Taejoon answered the door for him earlier so that Makoa couldn't see his changed body. He was getting even bigger now, much more quickly than he had before, but thankfully Makoa didn’t comment on it, just smiled at him wide and asked if he was going stir-crazy staying at home.

The honest answer was _yes_ , _and I’m so fucking sick of it_ , but Taejoon had been right behind him and he hadn't wanted the other to hear him say that. So he’d just laughed along with him and mumbled a non-answer, and spent most of the car ride here staring out his window silently, trying not to feel weird in front of one of his fellow Legends.

When they got to the thirtieth floor Taejoon pulled out a key and unlocked the door to their new apartment, and Makoa let out a whistle as he carried Octavio’s (well...now it was _their_ ) TV inside.

Floor-to-ceiling windows with a sleek white staircase that led to a second floor greeted them. The kitchen was huge and open and had an island in the middle with a couple of bar stools placed around it, a sparkling light fixture that wasn’t quite a chandelier hanging overhead.

Taejoon reached over in front of Octavio and slid a switch that turned the windows from crystal-clear to frosted white. Not solid white, but he couldn’t see out of the windows now, which was what mattered to Taejoon, he supposed. The floors were wooden and the floorplan was open, so that in addition to the clear windows made the apartment seem impossibly huge.

“Sweet place!” Makoa commented as he set the TV down, and Taejoon placed a box marked in Korean on top of the kitchen island. “All this just for you two?”

“And the baby,” Taejoon mumbled, the back of his neck turning red.

“Lotta room...which is just what _you_ need, huh?” Makoa addressed Octavio directly, and he floundered momentarily, not knowing what to say. He’d been intentionally avoiding eye contact with him, and now that he was talking to him he felt like hiding again. Adjusting the thin jacket he was wearing (that didn't do much to hide anything, but he felt better with it on anyways) he said,

“Yup! Soon as this thing’s out this place will become my own personal skate park, just you watch, amigo."

“That’s the spirit, brotha,” Makoa laughed, ambling past him and heading for the elevator again. His boyfriend followed as Octavio looked around, not having had the chance to check the new place out yet.

The master bedroom was on the lower floor, which he was honestly kind of relieved by, because with the strain on his back and pelvis currently the thought of climbing those stairs every day made him nauseous.

He ascended them now, gripping the handrail tightly as he did so. Where the flesh of his leg met metal was starting to sting, but he grit his teeth and kept walking around, taking a look in each room to see what it looked like. All about roughly the size of his old apartment, give or take a few square feet. Up here there weren’t any more floor-to-ceiling windows, but they were still very large and made the area feel huge, which he liked. 

By the time he came back downstairs Taejoon and Makoa were returning with another round of boxes, discussing how they would bring the couch up. Octavio opened his mouth to say something, but Taejoon cut him off with,

“You stay up here. We’ll handle it.”

Well, he’d been about to ask if they'd brought any food, but cool. Normally Octavio would have been annoyed by this treatment, as if he were weak, but he did _not_ want to humiliate himself by carrying up two boxes and then collapsing against the floor out of breath. _Especially_ not in front of Makoa.

The day passed by very slowly. It was honestly really fucking boring, but once they got the couch up he plugged his TV in and hooked up one of his consoles, playing video games while they moved around him. Taejoon made a comment about it once, and Makoa laughed, but they let him be.

Octavio had never really ‘moved’ before. He'd lived in his father’s mansion for most of his life, and when he’d left home he’d merely brought a backpack full of clothes to Solace. He had ordered furniture online and it was delivered for him and set up in his new apartment without him ever having to lift a finger on his own. 

Every subsequent ‘move’ had been like that—call people to move for him, sit back, and relax...or, in his case, run off and jump through a ring of fire. _This_ was the closest he’d ever gotten to actually moving on his own, but he was still doing none of it, content to watch others do the heavy lifting for him. This time he at least had a valid excuse.

Close to six o’clock Taejoon asked him to order dinner for the two of them. He’d offered dinner for Makoa too, but he’d shaken his head and said he had an important date to attend to soon. He waved them both goodbye before getting onto the elevator, and announcing as the doors shut,

“And if you need anything, Tavi, just give Uncle Gibby a call! Haha! Better get used to saying _that_!”

Octavio watched Taejoon attempt to discreetly smell his armpit, before he let his arm drop and turned to look at him. His lips pursed when he noticed Octavio grinning at him.

“What?” Taejoon asked defensively.

“Smelling the roses, babe?”

“I’m going to take a shower,” Taejoon said shortly, and disappeared into the master bedroom with a bag full of his clothes in hand. Octavio ordered them a pizza and sat back to play his game again, because there was nothing else to do. Well, he _could_ unpack, but he was actively trying not to do that, so.

A while passed, and then his phone rang against his thigh. Thinking that the pizza place was calling him back for some reason, he answered without checking his screen.

“Yo.”

“ _Why didn’t you tell me you were moving_?”

Octavio froze. He was sure that his heart had actually stopped for a moment. His character died, but he made no move to restart the level. Just pulled his phone away from his face slowly to look at the screen of it for confirmation.

 _Father_.

* * *

Taejoon was in over his head.

That's what he’d been repeating to himself nonstop this past week. Packing up his tiny apartment, running double security-checks on everything to make absolutely _sure_ that this new area was safe—low-to-nonexistent crime rate, none of the nearby buildings owned by any division of the Syndicate, every single tenant in the building with a clean record except for a few minor spots of vandalism...

With every box he taped shut he felt more and more like he was losing his mind. This entire situation felt surreal. Moving into a high-rise expensive apartment in the middle of one of the wealthiest cities across the Outlands, moving into a high-rise expensive apartment with someone _else_ , and that someone else being his _boyfriend,_ whom he’d been seeing for over a year.

Sure, he had been spending the weekends at Octavio’s apartment these past few months, but he spent the majority of his days either at home or on the dropship by himself. Alone and isolated, even when surrounded by other people, as he had been for the past three years. But now they were moving in together, with a kid on the way, and he was almost stupefied by it all. Taejoon had thought he’d be _dead_ before any of this happened, and felt consequentially unprepared despite every single background check he'd ran on this building.

He’d always told himself that he would never live to start a family. Never move into a (pent)house or enter a serious relationship with someone, not while his life was like _this_. He thought he was doomed to spend his days alone until he cleared his name and got Mila back, but now there was something slowing those plans down and it was the _exact_ thing he’d never thought would happen.

Taejoon felt like he was dreaming as he looked around their new place, wide eyes taking in the sleek gray wooden paneling of the kitchen, and the black fridge with a little touch-screen on it. The stove had eight burners, and the counters were so long that he could probably lay across all of them comfortably.

The windows could be changed from transparent to opaque. The master bathroom had a regular shower and a Jacuzzi tub. He could park a car in their closet. There was a sauna room upstairs. There was a huge balcony that led up to the rooftop, which had a button that caused panels to slide open and shield them from the rays of the sun.

Taejoon was in over his fucking head. He was dreaming. He was _overwhelmed_.

He would have never been able to afford this place by himself, and he couldn’t _believe_ that he’d gotten here with _Octavio Silva_ and that it was going _well_. He’d been so sure that moving day would be when the illusion broke. When Octavio, the notorious daredevil who couldn’t sit still, confirmed Taejoon’s worst fears and admitted that he didn’t want this kid and he didn’t think he could live with him, couldn’t be bound to one person.

He’d been so sure that _today_ would be the day that that would happen, but everything so far had been _good_. He’d brought Octavio donuts for breakfast and was kissed by him, his boyfriend’s hands sliding down his sides before gripping his hips, which felt nice. They’d spent the morning bantering, as they always did, and though Octavio had been upstairs for most of the move they exchanged smiles several times, almost shy in nature. Because neither of them could believe that they’d reached this point.

Even showering now, he kept expecting to wake up every time he opened his eyes, but the scenery around him remained unchanged, and his mind started to wander.

Rinsing the suds from his hair, he stared down at the drain between his feet and wondered what this place would look like when Hyunjin was born. He wanted to keep the baby’s crib in here, so they wouldn’t be going up and down the stairs any time soon, but when they were a little older they could be moved upstairs...

Would the baby be active like Octavio, or more reserved like him? Who would they look more like? Would Hyunjin have Octavio’s smile and laugh, or his? What would they be like when they grew up? Would they follow in their parents’ footsteps—sporty like Octavio or technological like him—or would they carve their own path?

What if Hyunjin wanted siblings? What if they both wanted more kids? Would Octavio be willing to go off testosterone to have another? Taejoon had always wanted to adopt, so maybe they would have more that way instead...

 _Hyunjin hasn’t even been born yet,_ he told himself as he finally stepped out of the shower, reaching for a towel. _Calm down._

Taejoon dressed into sweatpants and a loose t-shirt before leaving their bedroom, padding across the huge kitchen to get the drink he’d put in the fridge earlier. On the little touch-screen it told him that there was a bottle of water inside. That was nifty, if a little freaky. He’d have to figure out a way to disable it.

Noticing that it was rather quiet in here, he turned to see his boyfriend staring down at his phone, his TV dim due to inactivity. Taejoon approached the younger man, a question at the tip of his tongue, but he paused when he saw that Octavio was looking at his call log, and the most recent was labelled _‘Father’._

“What’d he want?” Taejoon asked, and Octavio looked up at him with an unreadable expression. He knew that the history between his boyfriend and his father wasn’t exactly a good one, but he didn’t know the extent of it. All he knew was that this probably wasn't going to be good.

“He knows I moved,” Octavio mumbled, and Taejoon took a sip of water.

“Does he know you’re..?”

“I don’t know.” His boyfriend’s fingers curled into his thigh, his other leg shaking uncontrollably. Both nervous habits of his. They shared a few.

Picking up on the tinge of anxiety...no, _fear_ , in his boyfriend’s voice, Taejoon leaned a little closer to him, softening his tone.

“He can’t get up here, Tavi-yah. He’d have to get past—”

“He _could_ ,” Octavio interrupted him, turning his head away pointedly. “He has his ways. He knows everyone, and even if he doesn’t know someone he can pay them to do what he wants.”

"He knows the building? Or does he just know you moved out?"

"I don't _know._ "

This was a side of his boyfriend he rarely ever saw, and it was no doubt thanks to his recent mood swings. He felt like Octavio got angry and frustrated more times than he wanted to admit lately, if the broken TV was anything to go by, and he was now witnessing a more nervous side. Vulnerable, almost, but trying its best to be guarded.

He knew how that felt.

Taejoon opened his mouth, trying to figure out how he wanted to word his question. He’d always wanted to ask Octavio about his family situation, get a better understanding of what his home life had been like. It would certainly be helpful when it came to raising Hyunjin, having their different points of view and experiences to go off of, but his boyfriend had always been strangely guarded about his home life despite being so open about everything else.

Finally, stuttering a bit, he managed to ask, “Why don’t you want your father to know, anyways?”

One of the first things he’d done was tell Mystik. Even if he had been dreading it slightly. Hyunjin was still going to be a part of her family, and he felt that she deserved to know, so he couldn’t understand why Octavio had put off telling his father for so long. He couldn’t keep his grandchild hidden from him forever, could he?

But he felt like this had been the wrong thing to ask, as Octavio’s eyes narrowed, gripping his phone more tightly in response.

“I dunno, ‘Joon,” he bit out, leg still bouncing. “It’s not like he used to beat the shit out of me, or anything."

Octavio stood up, turning his phone on and off again to glare at the most recent call listed at the top.

"It's not like he used to lock me in the maintenance closet at work whenever I was being _too loud._ It's not like he used to take his belt and—" Octavio cursed, throwing his phone down on the couch. It bounced off the cushion and landed at his feet, but neither made a move to pick it up. "You think I want our—that _you_ want—fuck, you think letting a kid around him is a good idea? Huh?”

He sounded accusing, and Taejoon stared at Octavio, mouth dry as he tried to formulate a response. He...didn’t know how to respond to any of that. It had been a suspicion of his, but he’d never wanted to think about it for too long. Nobody wants to imagine someone they love in pain, and the idea that Octavio had been abused and neglected throughout his childhood stung something deep inside him. He didn’t know what was hurting, exactly, but it ached.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, for lack of any better words, and Octavio just kicked his phone across the room, cursing.

"I bet it was Che," he muttered, fists clenching at his sides, and Taejoon stood up too, trying to get his boyfriend to calm down before he called up his friend in anger. 

"Why would she do that?" Taejoon asked warily.

"I don't know!" He burst out for the third time. " _Someone_ told him because it sure as fuck _wasn't me!_ "

"Octavio—"

"Was it you?"

Taejoon was taken aback. He had no idea how the other had come to that conclusion, but Octavio was clearly upset and even somewhat paranoid, pacing in an agitated manner in front of him.

"No," Taejoon finally said after a moment. "No, why would I do that without telling you?"

He was getting kind of frustrated with Octavio's actions, but after what he'd just been told he couldn't exactly blame his boyfriend for acting out. The stress of moving and being pregnant and now his father knowing was clearly taking its toll, even if his boyfriend didn't want to admit it.

They stared at one another for a while, Octavio's eyes still narrowed and Taejoon trying to think of what to do, what to say. Before he could come up with anything, he watched the other man's shoulders slump and his gaze move to the floor.

“It’s whatever,” Octavio said, voice steady in a tenacious way. “Is the bed set up yet?”

The buzzer went off behind them, startling Taejoon, as a voice cut through and announced that there was a pizza waiting for them in the lobby. When he looked back at his boyfriend he saw that he had bent over to pick up his phone.

“I set it up earlier,” Taejoon responded, and Octavio pushed past him, expression unreadable.

“”M not hungry. I’m going to sleep.”

Taejoon stared after him, wanting to say more, but he didn’t know where to begin, and he didn’t want to make it all even worse. So he just took a deep breath and went down to get the pizza—and it was bacon, which he didn’t like, but he ate it without complaint anyways.

When he crawled into bed later, unusually tired after a long day of activity, he looked over at Octavio, who was lying on his side, unnaturally still. He’d hoped that their first night in their new apartment would perhaps have gone down a different route, but...

Guilt clawed its way through him, and Taejoon wondered how well he actually knew his boyfriend. He wondered if having Hyunjin was a different experience for Octavio than it was for him aside from the obvious. He wondered if Octavio had any conflicting emotions about how he would be as a father, just like Taejoon had.

He wished that he would talk to Dr. Mary, talk to someone who had been a _good_ parent instead of having only his horrible past experiences to go off of, but he felt like if he suggested it it would start another fight. So he just let his eyes drift close, feeling strangely empty since Octavio was laying so far from him, and fell asleep counting every one of his partner's quiet breaths.

* * *

_FROM: /@38#*59104@*4_

**_[Decode message?]_ **

**_[INPUT COMMAND: Yes]_ **

_FROM: MI_

_Heyyy, T. I found this super sweet crib the other day! It's got little stars and planets on the sides...here's the link. Anyways, heard you're naming the little goober Hyunjin. Very disappointed it's not Miyoung. Maybe kid #2 will be better. Can't wait for the sequel._

_Jokes aside...I just wanted to tell you that I'm proud of you. For not letting this whole thing get to you, and moving on with your life. Or at least...putting it all on hold. We're both alive, you and I. And maybe we're being watched...but I think you're safe. And I really hope you stay that way._

_What I mean to say is...you know, I hate getting all deep and stuff, but I need you to forget about me. I need you to forget about taking the people up above, down. Just for a little bit. Because I wanna see you thrive, T. I wanna see you be the stupidest, dorkiest dad ever, and I want Hyunjin to grow up knowing that their dad is a huge loser...not that their dad is six feet under._

_Mom agrees with me. We know you getting your real identity back is important, but right now, the kid's even more important. We're orphans, you and I. I'd hate to see the same happen to Hyunjin. I know your boyfriend's one of them. You'd both get in big trouble if you kept poking around, and then what? Then I'M going to have to become a mom when the little brat doesn't have parents anymore._

_Okay, morbid jokes aside...again. Look, this is really hard for me to type. I can't be serious for long, you know that. But I mean it, T._

_Forget about me. I know that's gonna piss you off, but maybe being Hyeon Kim for a little while longer won't be so bad. I'll be working to help us both out, but I need you to focus on your family. Your new one._

_Love you, lil bro._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, sorry for taking so long !!
> 
> place your bets on which one will explode first :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're so close to the end ...! one more chapter....
> 
> tws: brief mentions of weight-gain, SIDS, and also cheating

_Taejoon didn't know why he was here, entertaining the whims of a rich brat whose primary emotions were boredom and audaciousness. He didn't know why he'd come here despite being given little info as to why he was coming in the first place, but here he stood in front of what was probably the most obnoxious person in the Outlands, second only to Witt, waiting for him to get on with...whatever it was._

_“So,” Octavio said, twirling a Wingman around in his hand, before taking aim at a dummy without looking and firing. The shot just barely missed its head, grazing the chipped paint, but he seemed unfazed by his failure. “An arrangement.”_

_Taejoon’s eyes narrowed as he placed his hands in his pockets. He was standing a few feet away from the shorter man, not wanting to draw any attention to the two of them in the firing range, but at the first sign that this conversation would perhaps be on the unprofessional side he took a step closer._

_“You wanted to discuss this_ here? _” Taejoon asked, disbelieving, but the inflection in his tone didn’t change much._

_“What, I told you we had to work this out, didn’t I?” Octavio said, angling his arm behind him and shooting once again. This time, it was nowhere near a dummy, and instead hit the ground by Loba’s feet, which was probably intentional, because she cursed loudly at him and he watched Octavio’s lips tug up in a smirk._

_“I thought we would actually work it out. Professionally.”_

_“What’s so professional about arranging to fuck every week, huh?” The younger man rolled his eyes, reloading his pistol mostly with just one hand—a skill that Taejoon would have found impressive had he not been infuriating. “Hold on, did you think we’d meet up in like, suits and stuff and go over a contract and have you cross out all the kinks you don’t like and—”_

_“Are you seriously referencing Fifty Shades right now?” Taejoon cut him off._

_“You can’t say shit. You recognized the reference.” Octavio grinned. “Me and Che watched the movie drunk.”_

_“I don’t know why I assumed you read the book,” he said dryly. “I don’t think you know how to read. A verbal contract makes much more sense.”_

_“You_ read _it? You’re a freak.” Octavio aimed at the same dummy from earlier, still without looking. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was practicing, but he didn’t seem to be having much success. He missed again. “Okay, anyways, I just wanted to ask a time and a place and all that.”_

_“Weekends are fine,” Taejoon said quietly, wanting this conversation to be over with. They’d had sex a couple of times now, but it had all been spur-of-the-moment, hasty decisions made when passing by a secluded hall-closet, or that one time he’d come over to apologize for initiating something in the Ring. There was no rhyme or reason to their hook-ups beyond 'I'm horny, you're horny, and there's an empty room right there'._

_They also had no official grounds or name for their relationship, and Taejoon knew that if they kept it up he risked Octavio mistaking casual sex for more. That wasn’t something he could afford right now, someone trying to weasel their way into his life with romantic intentions._

_People taking an interest in him was dangerous regardless of intent, but he also didn’t want to deny himself something like this. It was good stress-relief, if he was being honest, and Octavio was a good partner to have in the sense that he wasn’t very serious about things and didn’t seem to be the type of person to date._

_So he had been the one who suggested they meet up to arrange things. Draw a distinct line in the sand between him and Octavio, and lay down the rules—I have my side. You have yours. Do not cross the line._

_He just didn't think he'd be drawing this line in the fucking_ firing range.

_“My place or yours?” Octavio asked._

_“Yours,” he replied. “Mine is too small.”_

_It was a valid excuse, even if the real reason was that he didn't want anyone poking their nose around his things._

_“Sounds good.” Octavio cocked his head to the side, smiling with something mischievous in his eyes. “You aren’t strictly a top, are you? Because that would be_ boring _.”_

_“Can we not discuss that here?" Taejoon hissed, and Octavio laughed, firing his Wingman a couple more times, still not really looking at his targets. He hit exactly one shot out of three._

_“Okay, well, anything else to add before we shake on it, amigo?”_

_“We are casual.” Taejoon reached up and grabbed Octavio’s wrist before he could take aim again, causing those pretty hazel eyes to flicker towards him. He was a good-looking guy, if he was being honest with himself, and his eyes in particular often made him pause when he noticed them on him. “Nothing more. Don’t ask questions, or the deal’s off. Are we clear?”_

_Octavio’s eyes flickered down to Taejoon’s lips for a second, his own tongue pushing against the inside of his cheek, before he looked back up at him again. There was an almost smug element to his expression, something that made Taejoon want to punch him in the face._

_“Crystal,” Octavio said, and spun his gun in his hand to take aim at Taejoon, holding it upside down with his pinky on the trigger. Taejoon noticed that they had gotten much closer these past few seconds than he had intended to, but something about the way Octavio was looking at him with the barrel of a gun only inches away from his face was making him feel heady. Their eyes were locked, Octavio's full of challenge while he could feel his pulse beating rapidly against his thumb._

_This situation excited the other man, somehow._

_It took Taejoon a moment longer than necessary to let go of Octavio’s wrist, still staring at one another, before he turned his back on him and took his leave._

_There was some part of himself that felt as though this was all a mistake. He could find a good fuck in some random at the Paradise Lounge any day, and it didn’t_ have _to be one of his fellow Legends—but there was convenience in Octavio being within close proximity of him at all times, and also being someone that he had done an extensive background check on._

_The image of him writhing beneath Taejoon certainly didn’t hurt, either. In fact, out of all the Legends to strike this type of deal with, Octavio was probably the best choice. He didn’t know the definition of the word ‘commitment’ and seemed allergic to the concept of emotions._

_That type of personality_ _was exactly what Taejoon needed in his current situation._

* * *

Octavio had been to so many doctor’s appointments recently that he swore to himself that he wouldn’t go to another one for at least five years after this— _especially_ after Dr. Valencia told him that he’d need to come back late August to see if he was ‘dilating’. When he’d asked what the fuck the other man had meant he’d immediately regretted it. 

_What the fuck._

So _that_ had been horrifying. Actually, everything right now was horrifying. From his size to the fact that his father was aware that something was up, and also the fact that he had run out of videos to post on his channel and announced an indefinite hiatus and now people were wondering where the fuck he’d gone and—

And also, he’d had an actual _freakout_ about Hyunjin, which was _embarrassing_.

It had been a slow, steady build-up over the course of a couple of days. Watching Taejoon unpack and rearrange their furniture while he himself sat still, he normally would have felt Hyunjin a lot. He’d gotten accustomed to the movements and could even tell them apart for what they were, punching or kicking or general rolling around—but over the past couple of days the movement had slowed, and now felt more like a weird squirming sensation akin to that of nausea. Like it had been closer to the beginning of his pregnancy.

He hadn’t cared, at first. Had been relieved that the fucker had stopped _attacking him_ whenever he was trying to sleep. But then as the days went on he’d realized that he’d been unconsciously counting all of Hyunjin’s kicks and the rate of them had slowed down, and they weren’t moving so much now, and _oh god, what if he’d hurt them?_

Octavio had no idea what the hell he’d done wrong, if it had been something he’d ate that perhaps had gotten them sick (could babies get sick in the womb???) or if his stress over his father was affecting them too and what the fuck, what if he had _hurt_ this stupid—weird— _baby thing_ in him, that he was supposed to be _responsible_ for and man he hated that word but also despite the grievances it had caused him he didn’t want to actually _hurt_ a fucking child and—

He didn’t remember what, exactly, had set him off, but one moment he’d been fine and the next he’d been crying while a bewildered Taejoon tried to coax him into telling him what was wrong. One call to Dr. Valencia and a doctor’s visit later he’d learned that it was because Hyunjin was getting bigger and didn't have enough room to move around, and had also changed positions; they were now in ‘birthing position’, or something. Valencia had used a much fancier word, but that was the gist of it. 

Which meant that Octavio had freaked out over fucking nothing, and gotten hysterical over a kid that wasn’t even _born_ yet, a kid he didn’t even _like_ , and that was embarrassing. Taejoon still teased him about it a little, which normally would have pissed him off, but right now he would do anything for Taejoon to just...act fucking _normal_ again.

Because that was another thing. His boyfriend was being weird.

He couldn’t place his finger on what, exactly, was off. He felt like there were longer pauses between each of Taejoon’s sentences, as if he were thinking his words a million times over. His reactions were slower and, most egregiously, he kept disappearing every couple of days. He would always claim that he’d just forgotten something at his old apartment, but Octavio failed to see _how_ , seeing as that place was _barely_ bigger than their current closet.

Octavio would be the first to admit that he hadn’t exactly been all sunshine and rainbows recently. He’d snapped at Taejoon so much in recent weeks that at one point Taejoon had silently stormed out of their apartment and didn’t return for hours. He wasn’t _actively_ trying to be an asshole, but between his limited breathing and sleepless nights and aching _everything_ , his moods were constantly taking a swing for the negative.

Invasive, paranoid thoughts were afflicting Octavio because of it all. He’d stared at the screen of his phone one too many times while his boyfriend was out, finger hovering over the ‘ _call_ ’ button, convinced he would catch Taejoon _in the act_ if he would just call him. In the act of _what_ , he didn’t know, but he was sure he would catch him doing _something_.

Cheating, maybe? _No_ , he wouldn’t do that...would he? Octavio buried his head in his arms, trying to fight off those stupid nagging thoughts, because Taejoon _wouldn't_ cheat on him, even if he was gaining weight and didn't want to have sex and kept getting mad at stuff and...

 _Oh my god shut the fuck up,_ he told himself, trying to drive those thoughts out of his mind. Why was he being so fucking paranoid? That was _Taejoon's_ thing, not his.

_Ugh._

Another thing was the fact that he felt rather lonely.

Octavio had thought that they would spend more time with each other now that they actually lived together, but this huge penthouse felt so... _empty_ most of the time. At his old place, if he’d been taking a nap in his room and Taejoon was out there cooking lunch, they didn’t feel far from each other despite the walls separating them. He always knew that his boyfriend was just the next room over, and that was fine.

 _Here_ , in this penthouse, whenever Taejoon was in the bedroom and Octavio was out in the living room, he felt miles away from the other. This place was so _fucking_ big for just the two of them, and while it wasn’t even a quarter of the size of his father’s mansion, he felt like he was supposed to be _used_ to large, empty places like this. But back then they’d had a dozen staff members that he didn’t care about, so he didn’t mind if he never ran into any of them...

Yet here with Taejoon, someone he _actually_ liked, the distance between them seemed exaggerated even if they were only a room apart. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if Taejoon ever came out of their room to talk to him, but nowadays he spent most of his time in there, doing... _whatever_.

Octavio was currently alone again, the dawn of his thirty-fourth week as he built a Jenga tower. It was a sometimes excruciatingly _slow_ activity, but the end result was what would make it exciting, seeing how far he could push the boundary before it all came crashing down. It would’ve been more fun to play with Taejoon, but his boyfriend was out looking at baby stuff, or something, so he was by himself—but not for long.

A buzz sounded from behind him, a hummed ‘ _Silva residence_?’ and he rolled his eyes before approaching the buzzer, pressing the button on it to ask, “What?”

“There’s a Anita Williams here to see you.”

Octavio’s eyes widened, and he bit his lip, trying to think of what to do, before coming to the most obvious conclusion:

“Tell her I’m not here?”

“I don’t—”

“ _Silva, I can hear you_ ,” came Anita's slightly-faint voice through the speaker, and he gave a groan. “ _Let me up, will you?_ ”

He really, _really_ did not want to see her. Anita was probably one of the few people he— _eugh_ , respected—and she hadn’t had the chance to look at him while he was like _this_ yet. They used to work out together, and she would constantly tell him off for doing fewer reps than he’d done the day previous or call him names like ‘ _pipsqueak_ ’. She was going to be a _hell_ of a lot worse once she actually saw him.

But he also didn’t want her to like, kick his ass for not letting her see him, so he begrudgingly told the desk guy to let her up and ran (or rather, waddled) off to the bedroom to throw on the loosest shirt he had, which was hardly loose at all. He was just wondering how pathetic he’d look draped in a blanket when there was a banging at his door, and he groaned.

Octavio walked back out, slightly dizzy from all the rapid movement he’d done these past two minutes, before throwing the door open and greeting Anita with,

“What do you want.”

She stood there in jeans and a leather jacket, her typical casual wear, looking him up and down with raised eyebrows.

“Jesus Christ, you’re about to pop," Anita said.

He grimaced. “Don’t say that.”

She managed to push past him, crossing the threshold and placing her hand on the small of his back in order to not unbalance him, which kinda made him feel like shit as he slammed the door shut behind her.

“Why are you here?" He hissed at her, but Anita didn’t answer, instead glancing around his apartment with wide eyes. The place was mostly unpacked now, though a few boxes (mostly containing his things) were pushed up against one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, waiting to be opened. Octavio had ordered a new TV, waaaaay bigger than his old one, and it currently sat in front of the couch, though the teetering Jenga tower blocked the stupid movie he’d put on while building it.

She was frowning at the Jenga tower, and only turned to look at him when Octavio repeated, more loudly,

“‘Nita. _Why_ are you here.”

“Checking up on you,” she told him bluntly, and he scowled. “Where’s Kim?”

“Out.”

“Perfect. I wanted to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“The kid, dumbass. And you.”

Octavio stared at her, still scowling, before rolling his eyes and stalking past her to seat himself on the couch. He grabbed a blanket that he’d thrown over it earlier and wrapped it around himself, self-consciously trying to conceal the baby bump. Hyunjin’s kicks had been feeling sharper lately and he was having more of those weird fake contractions, so he desperately hoped that neither of those things would occur while _she_ was here. He just wanted to get this over with.

Anita sat down on the couch adjacent to his, though she perched at the very edge like she wasn’t exactly comfortable with it. You would think that she’d have gotten used to such shows of wealth with the whole... _Loba Thing™_ , but her eyes darted around warily, as if unsure how she should handle any of this.

“How are you,” she finally asked, though it came out awkward and stilted, and she coughed, before trying again: “How are you?”

“Peachy,” Octavio answered, tone flat. He really wasn’t in the mood for visitors or anything, even if it was Anita, whom he probably liked best aside from Makoa and Ramya.

“That’s good.” She nodded, as if that was what she had come here for. “So. The kid.”

They sat in silence.

“The kid,” she repeated, as if hoping he’d read her mind.

“Yeah?”

“Name?”

“Hyunjin.”

“Boy or girl?”

“Don’t know.”

“Right.” She coughed, getting to her feet before sitting back down, adjusting the way she was sat on the edge of the couch. “Okay, enough smalltalk—I just came to ask if you needed any help.”

“With what?” He asked sharply, and she sighed, running her hand over the shaved side of her head. 

“Just—I dunno. If you needed a babysitter, or you needed someone to be there when the—birth happens, for moral support, or—”

That was almost _uncharacteristically_ nice of her. Wrapping his blanket more tightly around himself, Octavio nudged her foot with his metal one and asked,

“What’s the deal, huh?”

“I’m just making sure you’re alright.” Anita snapped, but she let her shoulders slouch before finally admitting: “Y’know, it’s a big deal, all this, and I get that the dysphoria must be a pain in the ass, so. I’m here. To help.”

Oh. _That_ was why.

Anita was trans, too. She was the only older trans person that he knew (aside from maybe Bloodhound, but nobody knows _their_ age) and as such, he’d always felt a sort of...connection to her. A respect that he didn’t have for many other people because of their similarities. 

They’d talked about it a couple of times, early mornings in the gym after she’d made him some weird healthy breakfast shake that was supposed to help him build muscle or whatever. He supposed that she was now reaching out to him in case his dysphoria had gotten worse recently, as one of the few other people who would understand him and his feelings regarding the subject.

Octavio sighed, scratching at one of his ears where an earring would normally hang, but he’d been too lazy to put them in these past few weeks. They sat in an uncomfortable silence for a few seconds longer, because neither of them were too good at getting emotional, before he finally said,

“Well, gracias, I guess, but. I dunno. It’s not _too_ bad, I guess. The dysphoria, I mean. The worst part about it is the association with...yeah, but I don’t go out in public much anymore, so not many people see me like that anyway."

“Locked up in your tower then, princess?” She said around a smirk, and god, there it was, the teasing and the name-calling. Had anyone else called him princess he would’ve broken their femur, but it was _Anita_ , and she was just...like that.

“If I’m Rapunzel, then Crypto’s Mother Gospel or whatever her name is. He’s always telling me what to _do_.” He threw his head back, glaring up at the ceiling. “He destroyed my stim and stopped buying me soda. This shit _sucks_ , ‘Nita.”

“Well, _someone_ had to do it.” She gave a short, quiet chuckle. “Being a good dad requires sacrifices.”

“I don’t even know if I can _be_ a good dad.”

“But you’re great with kids,” Anita said. “It’s your one redeeming quality.”

“Yeah, but all the kids I’ve ever interacted with weren’t, like, _my_ responsibility,” Octavio stressed. “So maybe I _will_ need you to babysit. Yeah?”

“I was offering that out of courtesy. I hate brats. _You_ included."

“You can’t back out now. I need you to nanny." He slumped over on his side, staring out the windows into the Athens city sky. “I just want a normal night with him. Without this kid in the way.”

Anita crossed one leg over the other, finally leaning back in her seat and looking out the window with him. Her black leather jacket was in stark contrast against the white of the couch.

“Kid’s not even born yet, and you’re already complaining about it getting in the way?” She mused, and he huffed.

“They’re an _asshole_! They keep kicking me, and I can’t even go for jogs anymore because like, everything feels weird and my legs hurt and I can’t breathe and also I have to pee all the time and...”

Octavio heard the sound of the door opening behind them, and he sat up quickly, looking over his shoulder with wide eyes, expecting to see the familiar graying hair of—

_Fuck._

It was just Taejoon, standing there and holding shopping bags in his hand. He was toeing off his shoes at the front door as he glanced between Octavio and Anita with pursed lips, expression unreadable.

“Hey, shooter,” Anita greeted casually, and Taejoon swept past them silently.

“What’s in the bags?” Octavio asked, and Taejoon tossed them onto the kitchen island.

“Baby clothes,” he said shortly, before turning to look at Octavio. “Which you would have _known_ if you’d come.”

He then slammed their bedroom door behind him, and Octavio scowled at where the man had just disappeared. His expression only got worse when the Jenga tower behind him collapsed onto the coffee table, having been disturbed by Taejoon’s anger.

“No offense, Silva,” Anita said quietly, staring at the door. “But I’m not too sure you two are compatible."

“I didn’t ask,” Octavio snapped. "And what about you and Loba, _huh_?"

"That's different."

"It's the same."

"It's really not," she sighed, leaning forward before getting to her feet. “I'm just being straight with you. Maybe I’m wrong, I’ve only seen you two together once.”

She hesitated, before leaning down to wrap her arm around Octavio in a half-hug. “Call me if you need anything. Well, not anything. Call me if it’s an _emergency_.”

He gave a noncommittal hum, watching her leave, before getting unsteadily to his feet and making his way to their bedroom door. He stood in front of it, wondering if he should even bother asking Taejoon what was wrong. If he had the energy to go through an argument with him, since that was the path this would undoubtedly go down.

His hand hovered over the doorknob, but at the very last second he decided that he wasn’t going to put up with Taejoon’s bullshit right now, so he just turned on his heel and made his way back to the couch to set up his Jenga tower again.

* * *

Taejoon carded his fingers through his hair, staring down at the blinking city lights below him. He was sitting on the floor in front of one of the windows out in the living room, watching all of the tiny cars and people bustle about from this distance. His laptop hummed beside him, hot from hours of use, opened to a long, drawn-out argument between he and Mila that had lasted for several weeks, now.

The last message he’d sent her had been over twelve hours ago, but he had yet to receive a response, and wasn’t sure how soon he would. He and Mila had to jump through hoops to communicate with one another, and he couldn’t believe that the first conversation they’d had in years was fighting over what he should do with his life.

Because that's what they were arguing over—she was insisting that he stop pursuing his freedom. 

Taejoon knew that, on some level, she was right. Sure, it was dangerous enough for him to just _be alive_ , there was no denying that, but to actively _pursue_ the Syndicate and meddle with their things while having a child would be irresponsible, and could endanger both the kid and Octavio.

So she wanted him to lie low, live up to his fake persona of Hyeon Kim and get married and have kids and a _real_ job—without going after the people who had ruined his life in case they cut it too short. That was what she wanted him to do, and he understood why. He really did.

But Hyunjin and Octavio were _already_ in danger just by being associated with him. Why wouldn’t he want to try and clear his name as soon as possible so that he wouldn’t have to live in fear of hurting the people he loved? Should he really let that loom over him, an impending sense of doom, or shouldn’t he try to absolve it?

If he was going to live his life, get married and have kids and a real job, he wanted to do it as _Taejoon Park._ Not as _Hyeon Kim_.

 _But you’d only be accelerating your own demise,_ Mystik had told him over a phone call, and he clenched his teeth at the memory of her authoritative tone. He didn't understand how she could at one moment berate him for slowing down his plans and the next tell him to stop them entirely. _Let us handle it, Park._

He was closer to the Syndicate than _either_ of them. He would have a better chance at taking them down, but what if his mother and sister were right, and _they_ caught him while he was hacking, and shot up his apartment like they did back on Gaea? What if Octavio or, god forbid, _Hyunjin_ was caught in the crossfire?

But what if he _never_ pursued them, and then got caught anyways? Would he be able to live knowing that he could’ve cleared this all up sooner if he had just taken the action needed to make sure his partner and child were safe?

And speaking of partner... _Octavio_.

Taejoon felt as though both he and Octavio were reaching the end of their metaphorical ropes. Octavio with the pains and complications that pregnancy brought as well as a new added layer of paranoia about his father, and Taejoon with the stress of having to do everything by himself as well as trying to decide which decision would be the _right_ one when it came to this whole... situation.

They were getting closer to the edge of _something_ , but he wasn’t sure what. They’d been snapping at each other more frequently, even though he had been doing his best to hold back his temper these past months because he knew that it wasn’t Octavio’s fault—but Octavio’s attitude had worsened considerably ever since they’d moved in, and Taejoon was starting to get tired of putting up with it.

It was one of the reasons he’d kept leaving these past few weeks; both to talk to Mila and Mystik and also to avoid Octavio whenever he was in a mood. He didn’t want to add onto his boyfriend’s stress by being short with him, so he always left whenever he felt like things weren’t going to go well, but he was worried that this action was having the opposite effect of what he’d intended. Octavio always seemed to be in somehow even worse mood whenever he came back.

 _(_ "Where'd you go?" His boyfriend asked as he took off his soaking wet jacket, standing on the front mat in the hopes that it would absorb most of the mess.

"Out," Taejoon answered quietly, because he'd just stood at the corner of the street on his phone for about half an hour, but Octavio scoffed.

"No shit, estúpido. I mean, _where?_ "

He looked up at the other man, who was disassembling one of his legs on the coffee table, but as soon as he opened his mouth again Octavio turned away, lips drawn down in a scowl.

"Whatever. I don't care.")

Taejoon crossed his arms over his knees, looking over at his laptop screen, which had dimmed. It was making him anxious to just think of it, so he reached over and closed it, right as he heard the familiar metal squeaking of Octavio’s joints.

He looked up to see the other man walking slowly into the living room, squinting because of the lights outside with his hair sticking up on one end from the way he’d been sleeping. There was the faintest trail of drool at the corner of his mouth, and he stood oddly slanted.

It was odd to see him in such a state. Before all this he would have woken up just as dynamic as he usually was, but Hyunjin robbed him of so much energy that _this_ seemed to be his new default.

“I think I just peed out that mucus thing,” Octavio grunted, voice thick with sleep, and Taejoon gave him a look, not having expected to hear such news at two in the morning.

“The...mucus plug?”

“Mhm.” Octavio yawned. “Doesn’t that mean it’s coming?”

Taejoon got slowly to his feet before padding towards his tired boyfriend, sensing the opportunity to talk to him now that he wasn’t in an awful mood. He placed his fingers gently on the side of his stomach, saying, “It’s too early. Have you felt any contractions?”

“Same-old, same-old.”

Taejoon brushed Octavio’s hair out of his face, the night lights giving off a blue glow and washing his skin in its color, making him look nearly ethereal. Despite his grievances with the other man and his poor attitude, he still felt something warm inside of him whenever he looked at Octavio, the knowledge that Hyunjin was coming in just a few short weeks bringing him an indescribable amount of both joy and fear.

"Are you okay?" He asked softly, and Octavio nodded, too tired to complain about this gentle treatment.

"Just got woken up."

“Let’s go to bed, then,” Taejoon suggested, and Octavio yawned again.

“If the fucker lets me sleep.”

He chose not to comment on that, instead helping his boyfriend walk back to bed. He’d been a little unsteady recently, made clumsy by a variety of factors, and this showed in the way that Octavio leaned against him for support as he was led by him. 

"Hold this," Octavio instructed as he began to take off his legs, and Taejoon waited patiently as he did so, taking each leg from him when he was done before setting them aside in an easy-to-reach distance. He then leaned down to kiss Octavio briefly, but didn't get much of a response back, which was fair because again, it was two in the morning.

“‘Joon,” Octavio mumbled as he climbed into bed beside the younger man, and he gave a low hum to acknowledge him as he pulled the sheets up to cover the both of them. “Do you regret any of this?”

Taejoon paused, trying to detect hidden meaning in his boyfriend's tone, before continuing to adjust his pillows and blankets much more slowly.

“Regret what?” He asked quietly, hoping that Octavio couldn’t hear the edge in his voice—the momentary fear that he was about to hear what he’d been dreading for months.

“I dunno. All of it.” Octavio turned his head to look at him through lidded eyes, breathing slow. “Kissing me. The arrangement. The hot-tub. All that.”

Taejoon gnawed at his lower lip, but felt compelled to answer quickly in case his boyfriend mistook his pause for any sort of hesitation.

“Why would you think that I regret it?”

“Because you’re supposed to be all secret.” Octavio pursed his lips. “‘Nd because I’m...I forgot the English word...a stupid bitch?”

Taejoon let out an involuntary snort at that. “You’re not a stupid bitch.”

“But I act like one.”

“You don’t mean it.”

“Sometimes I do.”

Taejoon found Octavio's hand and gave it a light squeeze, before letting his wrist drop. "I know. And I knew when I was starting this thing with you."

They drifted off into silence after that, Octavio’s breathing slowing down even more. There was a near-raspy quality to it, so Taejoon assumed that he had finally drifted off—when suddenly, his boyfriend asked,

“Are you cheating on me?”

It was quiet, half-mumbled out and sounded weird due to Octavio’s current in-between state of awake and asleep. Taejoon, though, stared up at the ceiling, now feeling more awake than he had in hours.

“...Am I _what_?” He asked, just to be sure he hadn’t misheard, and Octavio lifted his head up from his pillow to repeat,

“Are you cheating on me?”

“ _No_.” His response was immediate as he sat up in bed to look down at Octavio, who didn’t move, just let his eyes drift shut. “I’m not—why would I—what makes you think—”

“I believe you,” Octavio said, cutting him off.

"Then why..?"

“Because you’ve been acting weird.”

“I’m stressed out, Octavio,” Taejoon said, not wanting to tell him everything going on between him and his family because he didn’t want Octavio to get involved in such a decision, but also not wanting his boyfriend to think he was _fucking_ _cheating_ on him. “I’ve been—I’m doing most of the work by myself. The shopping, the ordering, moving, paying rent, buying groceries—”

“Yeah, but _you_ don't have to actually carry the stupid thing in you, or quit everything you like,” Octavio cut him off again, voice clearer than it had been previously. 

“I understand that, but you don’t want to be involved in _anything_.”

“Because it sucks. I don’t wanna go out looking like this.”

Taejoon swallowed down a sharp exhale, fingers tapping against his thigh which was still covered by the sheet. “That’s why I gave you the catalogue. So you wouldn’t _have_ to go out.”

“I don’t know about any of that baby stuff,” Octavio complained, turning over on his side with some difficulty. “I’d have picked something and then you would have told me _no_ because you looked into it and found out that it’s the leading cause in sudden infant death, or—”

“Why wouldn’t you just look into it _yourself_?” 

“Because I’m not good at that stuff.”

“You could try.”

“Why do you want me to pick out fucking furniture so bad?”

“It’s not just about the furniture, Octavio, I want you to be _involved_ ,” Taejoon snapped, the frustration that had been building up in him rearing its nasty, ugly head. “Believe it or not, having a kid is a lot of work that _you_ have to do, too. It can’t just be all me. We’re going to have to do this for the rest of our lives. Or at the _very_ least, eighteen years.”

There was a lull in conversation, Taejoon chewing on his bottom lip again, before Octavio muttered quietly, “It’s just furniture.”

“I just said it’s not about the fucking furniture!” Taejoon hit his hand against the bed, just to feel the satisfaction of—hitting something. _Moving_. Trying to get rid of the tension in his shoulders. “It’s everything. And I _mean_ everything. You didn’t even want to pick out the _name_.”

“You know why,” Octavio snapped back, and now Taejoon could pick up on the frustration in his voice too, starting to overtake the drowsiness. “Spanish—”

“ _Doesn’t have gender-neutral names,_ I know,” Taejoon mocked the other man’s voice and accent, in the exact way that he had said it when the subject had come up, and Octavio sneered.

“ _Pendejo_.”

"You couldn't even keep up with your fucking job," Taejoon mumbled, tone accusing, and Octavio rolled back over to face him, glaring.

"Hey, Witt—"

"And you _never_ want to take responsibility for your mistakes or _admit_ you don't know what you're doing or that you did something wrong. It's always _someone else._ "

" _You_ made me get that job," Octavio's voice was raised as well, no longer sounding the least bit tired. "I didn't even want it, but you decided that I'd get that job, just like you've decided fucking everything for me, like my stim, or my soda, or my what-fucking- _ever_. You're so _fucking_ controlling and you don't even realize it."

"You've _made me_ decide everything!"

"You've _always_ been like this, from the very beginning, you wanted to control what we could and couldn't do, when we _could_ and _couldn't_ fuck."

"That was _different_."

"I'm sleeping on the couch," Octavio declared, moving to sit up, but Taejoon swung his legs over the side of the bed and picked up his pillow, biting back a million curses as he did so.

"No. I'll do it."

He expected another argument, some kind of protest, but all Octavio did was flop back onto the bed with a huffed,

"Good. Jerk."

He moved swiftly towards the door, fists clenched at his sides, before he paused in the doorway, the urge to get the last word in arising. Remnants of growing up with a dozen kids whom he’d argued with on a daily basis, that want to be _right,_ to _win_ the fight.

“Sometimes you act as though you don’t even want Hyunjin,” Taejoon said quietly, and Octavio’s hissed response was almost instant.

“I _don’t_.”

Taejoon remembered the morning of the day that everything had changed. The rising panic and fear that had taken hold of him, starting in his stomach and working its way up until his heart was pumping ice in his veins, and he felt dizzy as he realized just what had happened to Mila.

The feeling he got now was similar to that, but now it was the result of a months-long, steady build-up of doubt and paranoia and fear all coming to a head with the utterance of two words. He stared straight ahead, trying to figure out what to say, what to ask, trying to find a way to justify the statement: _he doesn’t mean that, he’s just angry, he’s been frustrated recently, I’m sure anyone would wish that they weren’t pregnant at this stage..._

But every single argument in his head was flimsy and dissolved nearly as quick as it had come, so Taejoon just opened their bedroom door and slammed it shut behind him, feeling numb as he crossed towards the couch. He dropped his pillow onto it before staggering over to where his laptop still sat on the floor, pulling it into his lap as he got ready to type a long message to Mila and Mystik, an incoherent jumbled mess of _I don’t know what to fucking do_ , before he slammed it back shut and tried not to have an anxiety attack in the middle of his living room.

Maybe one of his worst fears had just been confirmed, but he wasn’t going to bother them with it. Wasn’t going to make himself look like a fucking idiot and a fool who had thought that Octavio could _really_ change, and really wanted to do this with him. He wasn’t going to do that. He knew he had been wrong.

He did, however, eventually curl into the couch and cried frustrated tears into his forearm, biting so hard on his lip that it started to bleed because _fuck,_ this was exactly what he had feared and he couldn't do _shit_ about it. It was too late to take it all back, he should've told Octavio...they should've...why didn't he ever...

It wasn't long before he was drifting off into fitful sleep, mind racing with every single doubt and regret he'd had these past eight months.

* * *

Octavio had fucked up. No, _Fucked Up_ , with the capital letters involved, because that was _exactly_ what he’d done. Fucked Up.

And maybe months ago, Octavio would’ve cared that he’d Fucked Up, would have panicked and felt like shit and tried to tell Taejoon that _yeah_ , he didn’t want the kid but he did want _him_ and that’s why he was doing this _so please don’t leave me_ , but right now he just _didn’t_ care, and that attitude carried on for the next several days.

They lived in this sort of limbo, now—Taejoon barely looking at him and Octavio barely acknowledging him, texting Ajay every single moment while Taejoon did stuff on his computer or otherwise stared out the window. Hyunjin’s kicks got sharper and his weird fake contractions got more intense, and the steady countdown to when the baby would be here was now at four weeks.

Taejoon didn’t go out much anymore, perhaps to stave off Octavio’s idea that he was cheating on him, but he wished that his boyfriend would leave so that he could be by himself. Previously this penthouse had felt huge and empty, but now it felt suffocating to him, and he just wanted Taejoon _out_ of it.

Well, that was partially a lie. He both wanted Taejoon to leave and also wanted him to stay, because even if he was pissed the fuck off right now and they were both mad at each other, he just wouldn’t know what to do without him. After all, he’d gone through all of this just for him. To give him up at the end of it would be the worst practical joke he’d ever played.

But god, they were not getting along. Taejoon slept on the couch every night and the few words they spoke to one another were stiff and unfeeling, as neither of them wanted to show weakness in front of the other. He'd gotten a few texts about it from Ramya, so he could only assume his boyfriend had blabbed about this situation to Natalie, which pissed him off even more, but _whatever._

He wasn't going to let him know that he cared.

One Saturday evening Taejoon was putting together a crib, or changing table, or _something_ to that effect, when he looked up at where Octavio was making himself a sandwich in the kitchen; ham and roast beef and Sriracha sauce all squished together on white bread. Octavio noticed him looking out of the corner of his eye, but chose not to say anything, too preoccupied with ripping the crusts off the bread.

(“I am a capable adult,” Octavio had said once, after Ajay had called him immature and likened him to a five-year-old.

“You eat PB&Js with the crusts off,” she’d fired back. He didn't understand her point. Crusts were _disgusting._ )

He turned his back to put the ham and roast beef back in the fridge, and just as he was closing the door Taejoon asked,

“Can we talk?”

Octavio stared at his reflection in the shiny surface of the fridge door, chewing on the inside of his cheek, before glancing towards Taejoon—but not directly. Still looking in the reflection of the fridge, he saw his boyfriend looking down at his hands, where he was holding a screwdriver and a part to the...whatever it was that he was building.

He sighed out silently, going over his options. Ignoring the other man and secluding himself in their bedroom, or turning to face him and having to deal with the repercussions of his earlier confession. He wanted to do the first thing, like, a _lot_ , but he knew that this conversation was going to happen eventually and he might as well get it over with as quickly as possible. Because that’s how he liked things. Fast.

Turning on his heel, he picked up his sandwich from the island and said,

“Fine.”

Taejoon got to his feet, which made him want to take back what he’d just said, because he was taller than Octavio and he hated having serious conversations where he had to look up at people. He preferred looking down.

“The other night,” Taejoon said, cutting straight to the chase, and _fuck_ , this wasn’t what he meant when he said he wanted it to be over as quickly as possible, he wasn’t _prepared_ for this. “When you said...”

He paused, as if mulling over his words, and Octavio bit into the corner of his sandwich just to give himself something to do, something to look at that wasn’t him.

“When you said you didn’t want Hyunjin,” Taejoon finally got out forcefully, and Octavio kept chewing, not making eye contact. “Has that been—from the very beginning?”

“So what if it was,” Octavio said around a mouthful of ham-beef-Sriracha, keeping his gaze focused elsewhere. “It’s too late to change that.”

“But... _why_?” There was a crack in the middle of Taejoon’s voice, a momentary drop in his forced aura of calm, but it was back to normal in his next sentence: “Why would you do that?”

“For you,” Octavio replied, but there was nothing romantic about the way he said it. He’d always imagined that if he’d ever admitted this fact to Taejoon, it would be years down the line, and have a certain...romantic quality to it. Doing something like this for someone he cared about, despite all that he would have to give up. 

But it didn’t come out like that all. Just flat. Abrupt. Unfeeling and almost, _almost_ accusing. 

“Why didn’t you tell me the truth? I would have understood.”

“Because I didn’t want you to break up with me.”

“Why would I—”

“Because you wanted it, okay?” Octavio said, setting his sandwich down, appetite fading away. He glared up at Taejoon, who looked like he was visibly holding back from—from yelling at him, or storming off, or something. “I wasn’t even going to _tell_ you, I was going to have an abortion but—”

“So why didn’t you?”

“Because I didn’t want you to leave me,” he stressed, voice getting higher-pitched in a way that was fucking embarrassing, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care if he sounded childish right now, it had made sense to him back then and he couldn’t explain himself now because he didn’t want to _deal_ with this emotional shit.

“And you thought I wouldn’t leave you if you...had my child?” Taejoon sounded more angry, now, and Octavio turned away from him, taking a deep breath to keep himself from yelling.

“It wasn’t like that, I didn’t keep a fucking baby to keep you—chained to me, or whatever, I just—I did this for you! Because _you_ wanted it!”

“No, Octavio, you did this for _you_ ,” Taejoon said, voice raised—not quite snapping, still holding himself back, which was so fucking _infuriating_ because he was capable of being nasty and awful, Octavio saw it whenever he interacted with Witt but he was still. Holding. _Back_. For some _fucking_ reason. “And now we’re both going to be miserable.”

“Why? Why are _you_ miserable?” Octavio whirled around to face him, now pissed the fuck off because what do you _mean_ , _isn’t this what you wanted you fucking asshole?_ “You _told_ me you wanted this.”

“And _you_ told me—”

“I said that because—”

“—that you wanted it, I even—”

“—you already dumped me once—”

“—asked multiple times—”

“—and you were—”

“ _Dakchyeo!_ ” Taejoon shouted, and Octavio stomped towards the taller man, not caring about height differences, right now, because—

“Don’t _fucking_ yell at me, who the fuck do you think—”

Pain blossomed right as his voice turned into a raspy growl, and he all but collapsed against the island counter, not because it hurt a lot, but because of the suddenness of it. It was one of those stupid fucking fake contractions again, having grown in intensity and frequency over the past few weeks, and it had _just_ occurred once again during the worst possible time.

He felt Taejoon’s fingers brush against his arm with a concerned “ _Octavio_ ”, and he _hated_ that, he hated that fucking pity or sympathy or _whatever_ that was coming his way even though he had _just_ yelled at the other man. He ripped himself away from Taejoon, his ‘ _don’t touch me_ ’ coming out muffled due to the fact that he was biting on his forearm to keep from gasping.

He slid down to the floor, because he’d found that standing up when sitting or vice versa often made the cramp go away. Taejoon was still standing there, a mix of emotions on his face. Octavio had thought that he’d gotten better at reading them this past year, or that the other had opened up more, but each expression he made was more indecipherable than the last. Eventually Taejoon turned away from him and walked back to where he had been arranging the thing, kicking aside a few parts before sitting on the arm of the couch with a sigh. 

Octavio made a few quick decisions, reaching for his phone and texting Ajay. He didn’t care if it was the weekend and she was busy, he just wanted to get out of here. Just wanted to get _far_ away from Taejoon. After managing to pull himself up to his feet, he rummaged around in the stupid little coat closet that Taejoon had set up before yanking one of his jackets out, throwing it over his shoulders.

“Where are you going?” Taejoon demanded, but Octavio slammed the front door behind him without another word, eyes burning with tears for reasons he didn't quite understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dakchyeo--shut up
> 
> ive been having a rough couple of days due to some tough family situations , so sorry if this chapter feels off or anything :( stay tuned for the last chapter !


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tws for this chapter  
> some gross bodily functions that occur during the miracle of childbirth. said with the utmost sarcasm in my voice

Taejoon sat at the edge of their bed, staring absentmindedly at the crib pushed right next to the door to their bedroom. The bars were white, the cover on the mattress littered with patterns of stars, and a little stuffed Nessie was tucked safely into the corner. Natalie had gifted it, and though Hyunjin wouldn’t be sleeping with it for at least another year—babies could suffocate with toys in the crib—he greatly appreciated the gesture.

The Nessie had a pale yellow ribbon tied around its neck, which was very cute. He was pretty sure she had put it on there herself. He ought to get her a gift in return at some point.

He glanced behind him, where Octavio was sleeping, arm thrown out and hanging over the side of the bed. No doubt the other would wake up with it feeling like pins and needles, so Taejoon reached over and grabbed his wrist gently, adjusting his position to be more comfortable.

The reason Octavio’s arm hung over the edge despite their large bed was the fact that his boyfriend was deliberately lying as far away from him as possible. A pillow laid between them, though it wasn’t there intentionally. At least, the night never started off with the pillow between them, but nowadays whenever Taejoon woke up it was right there beside him. He didn’t know if Octavio put it there or if he did so while sleeping. They never really addressed it.

They never addressed anything, really. After Octavio had stormed out and then returned three days later, they acted strangely polite to one another. Or as polite as Octavio could get when he was still in a bad mood most of the time. It almost felt like they were just acquaintances again—those early months on the dropship where they were little more than neighbors.

Taejoon didn’t bring up what Octavio had admitted and Octavio didn’t bring up Taejoon yelling at him. It was sort of an unspoken truce, pretending that it didn’t happen, or at least, moving on from the fact that it happened. Even though Taejoon still got sick to his stomach sometimes thinking about it, the fact that Octavio went through this for...whatever reason, despite not wanting to.

Taejoon didn’t think about his birth parents often, drove them out of his mind when he was a preteen, but now he spent most of his nights staring up at the ceiling and wondering if, perhaps, his parents had been in a similar situation to them. Kept him even if they hadn’t wanted him, and that was what ultimately led to him being dumped at the doorstep of Mystik’s orphanage.

And now that Taejoon knew that Octavio had never wanted Hyunjin, how was he supposed to feel about this situation with Mila? If Taejoon was killed, hunted down, but Octavio survived...would his boyfriend even keep Hyunjin, or would he hand them off to Mystik? Or worse, some random orphanage on Psamathe? What if Hyunjin was put into the foster care system, just like he and Mila?

Unable to handle the thought any longer, he got to his feet, casting one final look towards Octavio before leaving the room. He’d been in the process of baby-proofing the house, even though he knew it’d be a while before Hyunjin was even crawling.

( _“What’re you doing?” Octavio asked, standing above Taejoon with his hands on his hips. He was doing that weird pose that pregnant people do, so it was kind of hard to take him seriously sometimes._

_“Baby-proofing,” Taejoon answered quietly, pressing the plastic cover over the outlet. It was on a hinge so that they could easily plug electronics in, but Hyunjin wouldn’t be able to get into it and hurt themselves._

_“You know Hyunjin’s gonna be like...a loaf of bread, right? Long. Useless. Sleepy.”_

_“Bread doesn’t sleep.”_

_“You know what I mean.” Octavio nudged Taejoon’s hip, and for a moment it was like things were almost normal. Almost okay between them as he smiled up at his boyfriend, but then Octavio was turning his back on him and wandering elsewhere, and he was left by himself to finish working once again._ )

Taejoon climbed up the stairs onto the second floor, where he was still in the process of setting things up. He wasn’t very good at packing or unpacking things, but was doing his best. Both of their PCs were in one room, adjacent to one another—Taejoon’s build, set up for maximum performance, and Octavio’s build, which was way more expensive than Taejoon’s but not quite as good. It seemed that Octavio had just gotten whatever was priciest and thought that price equaled good performance. It was cute, almost. 

In another one of the rooms was where he had set up most of Hyunjin’s things—clothes, toys, books, a changing table, a high chair. Looking at them, he felt simultaneously old and young at the same time. Old because he had a fucking kid on the way, young because the last time he’d seen all of this baby stuff he’d been a teenager in the orphanage looking after his younger siblings.

( _“T, it’s crying again,” Mila whined, bouncing their new youngest—Anna—in her arms, trying to shush her as she bawled. Taejoon stood up from where he’d been doing his homework and took Anna from Mila, brows furrowed as he tried to see if there was anything immediately wrong with her, like if she needed a change or something._

_He balanced Anna on his hip, giving her a once-over and swinging her back and forth gently like he’d seen Mystik do. Miraculously, Anna’s crying died down to hiccups and sniffles, looking up at him with teary eyes. Taejoon looked over at Mila, smug, because he was a lot better at handling kids than she was._

_“Oh, whatever,” she huffed, stomping away. “At least that means I don’t have to change the diapers!”_ )

The last room was currently a glorified storage space, as he wasn't sure what to do with some of this stuff, like the yoga ball he was pretty sure Octavio had bought for a video once and then never used ever again. They really should’ve sorted through all this junk _before_ they moved. He should probably do it himself sooner rather than later. Hyunjin was due in two weeks...four at the latest...two weeks left to finish things, sort everything out, and make big decisions like what he was going to do with his life and his identity.

Octavio was...what, thirty-eight weeks in? Most babies were born at about forty weeks. That was the metaphorical deadline that he felt he should decide on whether to listen to Mila and Mystik, or continue pursuing his freedom.

Would he be able to do both at once while taking care of a child? Or would he become obsessed, like he had been merely a year ago, and become consumed with the need to clear his name, thus neglecting Hyunjin?

Taejoon sighed as he leaned against the door frame of Hyunjin’s room, looking at it all, like the little decals he’d put on their walls. The idea had seemed cute at the time, but now he felt stupid, somehow. It was all so pointless. It wasn't like Hyunjin would appreciate the decals. Why had he even put them there?

(“ _Hey, look,” Octavio said, pointing out little rabbit decals on the shelf. The younger man had agreed to come to the store with him shortly after their argument, when he was trying his best to be civil. He could tell his boyfriend hated being out here, was constantly ducking between the shelves as if trying to hide from view, but something had apparently caught his eye, and it was wall stickers._

_Taejoon picked them up, as well as the little star decals next to them. He hadn’t really thought of putting such a thing up, but Octavio’s eyes were bright as he stared at the rabbits. He knew that his boyfriend really liked them._

_“Alright,” Taejoon said quietly, and tucked them beneath his arm._ )

Taejoon entered Hyunjin’s room, picking up some trash littered about, like packaging and discarded stencils, just to give himself something to do. It was about eight in the morning; Octavio had taken to sleeping in as long as he could, being exhausted these past few days. Taejoon was pretty sure this tiredness was one of the reasons they weren’t arguing as much. Octavio simply no longer had the energy.

 _Everything will be better soon,_ Taejoon told himself as he cleaned up. _In two weeks...two to four weeks, Hyunjin will be born, and then we’ll..._

Go back to normal? No. No way. Everything will change once Hyunjin is born, but maybe things would get...better, from here on out.

“‘Joon?” He heard a faint voice call from downstairs, and he straightened up before tipping all of the trash in his arms into the wastebasket by the door.

“Yeah?” He called back, stepping out onto the landing, and he peered over the clear glass banister to see Octavio standing downstairs, face scrunched up.

“The...” Octavio’s face scrunched up even more, as if thinking, before saying, “Brick...brick hick contractions aren’t going away.”

Taejoon blinked. “Braxton-Hicks?”

“I’ve had like, five." Now that he was looking, Octavio’s face seemed a little flushed. “Um, I think—well normally they go away if I move but—these ones hurt a lot and I th-think—”

_Jenjang._

Taejoon took the steps down two at a time, trying to figure out what to say, mind moving at a million miles a minute as he stuttered out, “S-sit down, and if they keep coming we’ll go to the hospital.”

Octavio all but collapsed onto the couch, his face screwed up into an unpleasant expression as Taejoon went to grab a bottle of water, texting Ajay because she’d asked him to let her know when Octavio started...

Fuck, fuck, labor, _what the fuck._ He felt wildly unprepared despite everything he’d planned leading up to this moment, despite the stupid goddamn emergency bag shoved inside the hall closet, full of clothes for the hospital. The bag sat next to a carrier specific for newborns because they didn’t own a car and would have to carry Hyunjin home and...

 _Calm down,_ Mystik's voice told him as he handed the water bottle to Octavio. He then pulled the hospital bag out of the closet as well as the carrier as he heard Octavio groan from behind, adrenaline now coursing through him as he realized that _yeah okay_ this was definitely happening and Hyunjin was _here_ two weeks earlier than he had thought they would be, but that was fine, he was prepared ( _wasn’t_ ) and _fuck_ , why the _hell_ was he panicking, he needed to keep his head on his shoulders, _don’t be a fucking idiot, Park._

Taejoon sat across from Octavio, who seemed to be in the midst of another contraction, laying on his side on the couch, face screwed up in pain but not really making a whole lot of noise, which he didn’t know if that was normal or not, but it definitely looked like this was the real deal, they should probably get to a hospital soon...

He called for a driver, biting on his index nail as he wondered if he had enough time to run a background check on the woman who had agreed to take them to the hospital, before he shook the idea off and instead bent down to guide Octavio into a sitting position. 

His boyfriend looked pretty awful—his hair was greasy, as he was taking showers a lot less often due to having slipped inside several times with his unsteady stance and slick metal legs. There were very dark bags under his eyes and his lower lip was bleeding from when he’d bit down, hard.

“Can you stand?” Taejoon asked, wondering for a second if he would be able to carry Octavio plus the bag down, but thankfully Octavio snapped, without any real conviction,

“Of course I can stand. It’s labor, not me losing my legs again.”

They got into the elevator, out into the car before another one hit. The lady assured them she would get them there as quickly as possible, Octavio curling up beside Taejoon with his head resting on his thigh, as he had nowhere else to go. 

Taejoon rifled through the bag to make sure he had the paperwork he’d filled out last week, having pre-registered at the hospital he’d chosen for this moment. Octavio had called pre-registering boring and useless, _why can’t you just fill that out when we get there_ , but Taejoon liked being prepared. Especially with their situation, where he was able to put down Octavio’s pronouns beforehand. He was pretty sure getting misgendered would make his boyfriend feel a lot worse.

The next ten minutes or so were a blur. Taejoon felt like he was experiencing everything as an outsider, detached from his body. Like playing third person in a video game, or being a character in a story rather than experiencing it for himself.

At the hospital, a nurse with glasses led them both to something he called triage, asking questions as he did so. They were mostly directed at Octavio, who answered everything sounding faintly annoyed, though his voice was also slightly strained, a raspy quality to it.

Taejoon glanced around at the pastel blue and pink walls as they walked, little storks painted everywhere. It seemed almost childish, which he supposed was the point.

“We’re going to check the baby’s heart rate,” the nurse said as he guided Octavio onto the edge of the bed carefully. Taejoon watched Octavio rip his arm out of the guy’s grip, looking miffed, but the nurse didn’t seem at all offended. Taejoon glanced down at his nametag—Morgan. “We’ll also check your dilation. Dad, can you start timing the contractions?”

“Y-yeah?” Taejoon stuttered out, though it sounded more like a question, as he was taken aback by being referred to as ‘ _dad_ ’.

“Why do you have to check?” Octavio demanded as Morgan got him hooked up to the fetal monitoring machine. “If I’m feeling the contractions, that means it’s started, right?”

“Well, if you’re not dilated enough, you’d have to go home. It means you’re not ready.”

Octavio’s head whipped around to glare at Taejoon, brows furrowed. “Go home? But that’s _stupid_.”

“Considering that you’re very coherent right now, you may just have to go home,” Morgan said, though there was a bit of teasing in his voice. Octavio’s face scrunched up again as Taejoon pulled out his phone, setting up a timer for each of his contractions. 

His leg was bouncing as he sat in the stiff hospital chair beside the bed, texting Ajay back when she responded to him, though his numb fingers caused him to make several typos. He was in a weird in-between state of calm and panic, caught off-guard by everything at the moment, because he’d been mentally preparing for this to happen in at _least_ two weeks, not _right now_.

Hyunjin was on their way and he felt like he'd been pushed out of an airplane without a parachute, free-falling and expected to find a way to land without hurting himself. He couldn't even begin to imagine how Octavio felt.

The whole process in the triage room took about twenty or so minutes. Morgan finally checked how dilated Octavio was, which made his boyfriend cross his arms, face sour. The nurse then glanced up at Taejoon and asked,

“How far apart are they?”

“Five minutes, give or take,” Taejoon answered, and Morgan straightened up, taking off his glove. 

“Well, Mr. Silva, you’re ready to go. Let me get you a change of clothes—unless you want to take a shower first?”

“I can do that?” Octavio asked.

“Labor’s a long process. The baby doesn’t just pop out.” Morgan paused, before gesturing to Taejoon. “Just make sure Dad’s in the room to make sure you don’t fall down.”

“I’m gonna shower.”

“Alright. I’ll send down your nurse in about fifteen minutes, and they’ll take you to the delivery room. Good luck.”

Taejoon followed Octavio into the bathroom, where his boyfriend shucked his shorts off without much ceremony. He helped him with his shirt, which earned him an eyeroll. Okay, so _that’s_ how Octavio was going to be during this. He wasn’t really surprised or offended—he’d read up on what to expect during these moments, and he should be glad that he was experiencing a milder side of this. They would just have to see how long this attitude lasted before changing for the worse.

As Octavio showered, Taejoon leaned against the door to the bathroom, trying to think of what to say. What to _do_. They’d never really discussed what would happen once they got to the hospital, though it wasn’t Octavio’s fault this time. It was Taejoon’s, overwhelmed by the idea that he would have to be there and see his boyfriend in pain, and somehow get him through this process. He was also just a little queasy about childbirth, remembered throwing up in biology class when they’d been shown a video of it.

He tried not to think about the gross aspects of it, tried not to think about he and Octavio’s arguing. All he wanted to focus on right now was Hyunjin, and the fact that in a few hours, his child would be born.

 _His child_. His family. His family with Octavio—unsteady as everything may be, that would be the end result of today. Their family, officially started.

“Do you want me in there with you?” Taejoon asked quietly after a while of silence, not looking in Octavio’s direction. The response he recieved was instantaneous.

“Nah.”

He was simultaneously relieved and also upset. He opened his mouth to ask _why_ , but Octavio got there before him.

“Nothing personal. Just...I don’t want anyone to see me like that. Not even you.”

 _Not even you._ For some reason, that specific phrasing made Taejoon feel the tiniest bit better. He heard Octavio groan out a low ‘ _fuck_ ’ as, presumably, another contraction hit. When the other man finished showering he helped him dry off, ignoring Octavio’s annoyed expression by this action, before getting him into the hospital gown.

Their nurse’s name was Alecto, and they almost had to force Octavio into the wheelchair.

“But sitting huuuurts,” Octavio protested.

“They don’t want you walking," Taejoon told him. "If you fall down, you could sue them.”

“Maybe I _want_ to sue them.”

“We have a talker,” Alecto commented as Taejoon bit back a laugh. “Normally they’re quieter than this."

Inside the delivery room, Taejoon set aside the hospital bag as Octavio situated himself on the edge of the bed, swinging his legs back and forth while Alecto kept talking, explaining what was going to happen within the next few hours. Taejoon wondered how long he was going to stick around until Octavio kicked him out, and his question was answered as his boyfriend groaned out in pain again and slumped over onto his side, face screwed up.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” His boyfriend made a grabby motion at the bag Taejoon had set down. “Gimme and get out.”

"You sure?"

"Give me the video game."

Pulling out the Switch that Ramya had let him ‘borrow’ months ago, Taejoon handed the console to Octavio, who turned his body at a strangle angle in order to play it. He didn’t comment on it; it was probably the position that felt most comfortable at the moment. 

Playing video games was a good distraction from the pain, so Taejoon left his boyfriend to it while trying not to feel too guilty about leaving him to deal with it all by himself. 

Taejoon found himself in a waiting area designated for people like him, waiting out here since their partners didn’t want them in the room or some other circumstance. His phone buzzed with a message, and he checked it to see that it was from Ajay. Sending her Octavio’s room number, he pulled out the book he’d shoved into his jacket earlier and opened up to where he’d left off, leg bouncing uncontrollably against the hospital tiles.

It was very drafty in here, but thankfully his jacket prevented him from feeling too cold. Octavio though, wearing that thin hospital gown, must be freezing...he wondered if he should go remind his boyfriend that he had a jacket shoved into that bag if he needed it...it'd been twenty minutes, maybe he should go check on him just to make sure he didn't want him there...

“Kim,” he heard, and he looked up to see Ajay standing there with a hand on her hip, eyebrows arched. She looked like she'd just rolled out of bed, sloppy buns and no makeup. “Why didn’t you tell me he didn’t want anyone in there?”

“I thought he would’ve let _you_ in,” he admitted, and she scoffed.

“Ya thought wrong. I went in there and got told to fuck off.”

“Mianhaeyo.”

“Well now I feel like there’s no point in me bein’ here,” she sighed, adjusting her stance a little. “I’m not just gonna sit out here and do _nothing_ for the next twelve hours. I’ve got things to do.”

“That’s fine,” Taejoon said.

“How far apart are his contractions?”

“Five minutes, might be shorter now.”

Ajay nodded before grabbing at his wrist, and with raised eyebrows he let her pull him into a standing position, before she was wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug.

“You okay?” She asked kindly, and he hesitated before returning the hug, giving a nod that she probably couldn’t see, so he cleared his throat and said, “Yeah.”

Because he didn’t feel entirely _there_ yet. Detached, like he’d thought earlier. A strange sort of limbo as his life teetered on the edge of a very big change, a change he didn’t even know how much it was going to affect him and Octavio in the coming months. If they would fight more or less, if Octavio’s attitude would change for the better or worse, if his boyfriend would return to his old habits or...

Ajay pulled away from him, giving him a smile before ducking her head, wiping at her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, a little confused, and she gave a shrug of her shoulders.

“It’s a big moment, is all. I just didn’t think it’d be Silva, of all people, to go through it first.”

Taejoon bit on his lower lip, wondering if he should bring up their argument to her—because it had been _her_ who had sought him out on the dropship and told him that Octavio might not want this kid, in the end, and she had been right. But he decided that that was _their_ business and not hers, something private to them that didn’t need to be shared elsewhere. He hadn’t even told Mila yet.

So Taejoon just took his wallet out and asked her, “You want to grab breakfast?”

“I could go for some waffles.” She looked over her shoulder, lips pursed. “Better go check with Silva before we leave, though.”

Taejoon nodded, moving past her and walking down the halls, excusing himself every time he nearly ran into a nurse. He eventually found himself outside the room Octavio was in, knocking on the door before allowing himself in.

“Octavio,” he said quietly, but paused when he noticed his boyfriend’s face, lower lip bleeding once again and sweat beading his brow as he kept playing his game. “I’m going to get breakfast with Ajay.”

“Mhm.”

“Is that okay?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Um...your phone is by the—”

“I got it,” Octavio cut him off. “I know where the call nurse button is, too. I’m not stupid.”

“I never said you were.”

“I’m fine.”

Taejoon just sighed before closing the door behind him, meeting back up with Ajay in the waiting room.

“Let’s go,” he said, and she beamed up at him.

* * *

Seven hours. 

That’s how long it had been since they had arrived at the hospital, and Taejoon didn’t know what was happening in that room. Just paced back and forth in the waiting room, every passing moment edging him closer and closer to the realization that everything was going to be _different_ , now, that it was all going to _change_. 

He’d finished his book already, and had been left alone by Ajay about five hours ago, as she’d come to the hospital with him after breakfast but then left to attend to other matters. He’d messaged Mystik in the car on their way to the restaurant once he was sure he was in a secure area, telling her that Hyunjin was coming, and he hadn’t received a message back yet. She probably wasn’t going to respond for quite a while until she was sure he was no longer at the hospital.

The nurses and midwives kept checking up on him and giving him updates on Octavio’s state, and every single time he asked if Octavio wanted him in there with him. They usually gave him a pitiful look whenever they answered ‘ _no_ ’, which he didn’t really appreciate. He’d also asked if Octavio had asked for anesthesia, and the answer to that was also _no_.

Taejoon had read before that giving birth was one of the most painful and traumatic experiences that a human being could endure. He wondered how it would compare to getting your legs blown off with a grenade and then amputated.

The doctor met up with him at some point, giving him another quick update—telling him that the other man was nearing full dilation, Hyunjin should be born before the day was over, and that Octavio was handling the situation remarkably well. So Taejoon supposed that giving birth ranked slightly lower than grenades and double amputation.

Nearing five o’clock, he swore that he could hear Octavio’s voice amidst the other noises of the hospital—nurses and midwives and doctors and patients and babies. He could almost pick up on the other man swearing in Spanish, which just left him feeling very useless in regards to this whole situation. Sure, Octavio had actively made the choice to not have him be involved for reasons, but he still felt...

A loss of control, almost. He had no authority in this situation, couldn’t predict an outcome or choose the route for them to go down. He had to let the doctors handle it, had to let _Octavio_ handle it, had to step back and let someone else take the reins while he just. Stood idly.

Taejoon sat back down at half past five, keeping his head in his hands as he tried to think of what to do, if he should try asking if Octavio wanted him there again, when he noticed Alecto’s familiar sneakers making their way towards him.

He glanced up, making eye contact with the nurse, who gave him a small smile; just a slight upturn of their lips.

“Your partner has a mouth on him,” they said. “I’m Hispanic. He’s not happy.”

“I’m sorry.”

“He called Dr. Turei _hijo de la gran puta._ ”

“I’m assuming that’s bad.”

“Very.” Alecto shook their head, as if they had allowed themselves to become distracted. “Sorry, got sidetracked. Do you want to cut the umbilical cord?”

Taejoon stared at them, jaw going slack, before he managed to stutter out, “Y-you mean Hyunjin—?”

“Baby’s out. Congratulations.”

Taejoon ran his hand through his hair, feeling as though ice-cold water was flowing throughout his veins at those words. “...N-no, I don’t—I’ll let the doctor—”

“No hard feelings. It’s not for everyone.” Alecto glanced around, their hands in their pockets. “If you’re queasy about this stuff, I’d wait til Dad gets the placenta out before going in. I’ll let you know when that happens.”

Taejoon nodded, thanking them, before pulling his phone out to text Ajay, updating her on the news. He did the same for Natalie, though this would be a little abrupt for her; he hadn’t told her they were at the hospital yet, not really wanting to deal with a whole lot of questions right now between her and Ajay. Natalie would be excitable about this, and he didn’t want to be overwhelmed.

Just as predicted he was met with a flurry of messages and questions, some of which he answered and others that he was unable to due to not being present for most of it. Ajay told him she'd visit them in a couple of days, give them time to adjust to it all, especially since Octavio would probably not be feeling up for visitors, which he agreed with.

It hit him, then, that Hyunjin had been born. Officially. They were out, _alive_ , breathing in this world and they weren't just an _idea_. Not just a part of his thoughts or a figment of his imagination. They were _real_ , and he was officially a father now. 

_God, you’re old,_ Mila’s voice rang in his head, and he laughed to himself, burying his face in his hands and trying to fight back the weirdly giddy feeling overtaking him.

When Alecto approached him next he all but sprang from his seat, walking with them swiftly down the hallway to the room Octavio was in.

“He’s a little tired, but he’s fine,” Alecto said as they stood outside the door, before giving him jazz hands. “Congratulations, Other Dad. It’s a boy.”

They pushed the door open for him then, and Taejoon entered the room, seeing a midwife standing there with a bundle of blankets in her arms. Octavio was on the bed, looking extremely pale, which only made the dark bags under his eyes stand out more. Both of his legs were placed in the corner of the room, and the midwife muttered something about them being unsanitary when Taejoon pointed at them questioningly.

But he wasn’t paying attention to her answer; his eyes were immediately drawn to the infant in her arms, feeling as though he were standing on the edge of a very high cliff, stomach dropping about a hundred feet.

“Would you like to hold him?” She asked him in a sweet voice, and Taejoon couldn’t speak. Just nodded, but still felt terrified all the same when she held Hyunjin towards him. He accepted him into his arms, and looked, for the first time, at his baby.

* * *

Octavio felt like death.

Like if Revenant could be described as a feeling, it would probably be this. He didn’t know what dying and living again felt like, but it probably felt like giving birth. He was much more sympathetic to the murderbot right now.

He looked down at his fingernails, jagged from biting them. The Switch had died hours ago, but by that point the pain had been too great to ignore by playing video games, so it was whatever. It’d served its purpose, and he'd moved on to biting instead and then eventually cursing.

Right now he just felt like he’d been run over by a car, and also like he’d been lit on fire at the same time. And hosed down. And microwaved. And a lot of other things that were terrible. He felt like even though it didn’t hurt as much as the grenade thing, it was still a lot worse somehow.

Maybe because he’d just. Given birth. To a _kid_.

Said kid was currently being handed off to Taejoon, who was looking down at Hyunjin with that same spark he had gotten in his eyes months ago, when Octavio had first told him the news. The nurse had offered for Octavio to hold the kid not too long ago, but he’d shaken his head, unable to speak due to a sore throat. His arms felt weak and he just felt tired. Of everything. But especially the kid.

Even if he’d just been born.

He watched his boyfriend hold Hyunjin, tried to feel... _something_ about the way he was looking down at the baby, like everything was okay. Because Taejoon tended to look stressed, with a pinch in his brow and a downturn of his lips, but right now he looked oddly relaxed. Oddly _happy_.

Octavio tried to feel something about that. Tried to feel any sort of sense of accomplishment, like _yay it's over I did it_ , but nothing was coming to him.

He just. Felt. _Tired_.

Taejoon said something in Korean, quiet and gentle as he rocked Hyunjin, an almost absentminded movement. He’d raised his hand, nudging his finger against his face or the blankets or something. Octavio couldn’t really see from here.

Hyunjin had been screaming and crying not that long ago, but now seemed to be sleeping just fine in his boyfriend's arms. The doctors had looked the kid over, said they were doing some test on him. Checking his feet and hands and pulse and all that. He was apparently fine as far as babies went.

“Octavio, do you want to hold him?” The midwife asked him again. It’d been ten minutes since she’d last asked him. Maybe she thought he just needed some time to rest up.

“I don’t wanna,” he managed to answer instead of just shaking his head like earlier, voice cracking in the middle. Taejoon looked up at him then, making direct eye contact, before he approached, speaking quietly.

“Tavi, you’re not going to hurt—”

“ _No_ ,” Octavio groaned, turning his head away from the handful of blankets being held out towards him, like that would take him away from the reality of this moment, this new responsibility disguised as a newborn baby. “I don’t _wanna_.”

“This is normal,” the midwife told Taejoon, who looked...fuck, he didn’t know. He didn’t know that expression. “Sometimes they’re too tired. In a couple of hours he’ll be ready to hold him.”

Taejoon just kept looking like...that, that emotion Octavio didn't know, clearly unconvinced of her words.

The doctor whom he's sworn at several times during this whole process came back into the room then, smiling as she spoke to Taejoon about something. Octavio wasn't really paying attention. He was instead staring out the window, watching the sunset reflect off of the glass buildings around them, making everything drown in an overwhelming golden glow. 

“We’re keeping them both here until tomorrow morning so we can monitor them,” the doctor said, and Taejoon nodded, mumbling quietly.

They moved him to a new room, where he immediately laid down in bed, feeling weak all over. He drifted off to sleep and was woken up, hours later, by Hyunjin crying. He'd apparently been fed already, so he wasn't crying because he was hungry. He was just crying to cry.

When Taejoon noticed that he was awake Octavio silently gestured for his boyfriend to give him his legs, and put them on without a word before stumbling into the bathroom, wanting to take a shower to wash away the weird feeling clinging to his skin.

He soon regretted making this decision at all, as he looked down at his body beneath the showerhead. He hadn’t thought he would like, magically regain his abs, but he’d hoped he would be a lot...skinnier. And wouldn’t look like _this_. 

His shower lasted maybe five minutes because he couldn’t stand looking at himself naked, and also fuck he was really sore down there, but on a scale of one to ten, Grenade Incident was a nine and this was a solid seven. 

Octavio pulled on the hoodie that had been packed away into the hospital bag as well as a pair of basketball shorts, before padding out into the room where Taejoon was waiting, scrolling through his phone.

“Hello,” Taejoon mumbled when he noticed Octavio in the room.

“Hi,” he said back.

“How do you feel?”

Octavio shrugged his shoulders, before pointing at the papers in Taejoon’s lap.

“What’s that?”

“ _‘Acknowledgement of Paternity’_ form. I need you to sign it. Since we’re not married, I can’t sign Hyunjin’s birth certificate until I sign this.”

Octavio nodded, stepping around the bed to grab the form from his boyfriend and taking the pen that was handed to him. He didn’t read through any of it, just found where he was supposed to sign and scrawled a messy signature. Messier than normal. His hand was shaking a lot.

Taejoon got to his feet then, placing his hand on Octavio’s hip, but he shook his head and moved away from his boyfriend, not in a mood for...anything, really. He noticed a dinner tray on the table beside his bed and picked up the cup of what was presumably water, drinking from the straw as he glanced out the windows again. Bright moonlight, the golden glow from earlier now silver.

Octavio had thought that after he’d gotten the kid out he’d be up and raring to go. He was _Octane_ after all, the high-speed daredevil who blew off his own legs and threw himself into geysers and danced with death. He’d thought he would be jogging laps in the hospital room by now, annoying the nurses and midwives and other patients. 

But he was just tired. 

As if sensing this, Taejoon gestured to the bed and suggested, “Go to sleep. I’ll watch the baby.”

Octavio looked towards Hyunjin, who wasn’t crying anymore, just looking around the room. He had light brown eyes and tufty black hair, but Octavio had been told that babies’ eyes darkened over time, so maybe his eyes would look more like Taejoon’s and less like his own eventually.

The baby was like. Really ugly, if he was being honest. Not spectacularly ugly, just ugly in the specific way that newborns were ugly. Tiny, wrinkly, all that. It did nothing to endear Hyunjin to him.

He laid back in the hospital bed, more than glad to pull the blankets up to his chin and try to forget that this whole thing had happened. He was _already_ starting to forget the pained ordeal that had taken up most of the day, and also all of the gross bodily fluids he hadn't known he’d had, which was concerning considering the fact that he used to participate in a bloodsport.

When Octavio woke up for the third time, it was roughly nine in the morning, which meant it had been more than twenty-four hours since this entire thing had started. Taejoon was holding Hyunjin again, feeding him a bottle. He noted to himself that his boyfriend looked strangely happy right now, even though he probably didn’t get any sleep. He was pretty sure he had stayed the night, because Taejoon had chosen this hospital specifically since they wouldn’t kick him out after visiting hours. 

Watching Taejoon quietly feed Hyunjin just made Octavio feel worse somehow. He didn’t know _why_ he felt this way, so tired and dragged down by the weight of it all. He didn’t know why some part of him had expected that he would just _get over_ this as soon as it was all said and done. He didn't know why Taejoon being good with Hyunjin but he himself feeling nothing towards the kid just made him feel a lot worse than he had thought it would. 

Was this how his mother had felt after giving birth to him? His father had always told him that she’d left him not even a year after he’d been born, unwilling to put up with his cries and keep up with the maintenance that children required.

For the longest while, Octavio hadn’t been able to understand how someone could just leave their baby like that, but right now he could almost imagine himself in her shoes, and that was scary as fuck. He hated his mother and what she did to him. He didn’t want to sympathize with her.

(But this was _different,_ right? His mother had _wanted_ him at first before deciding that he wasn't worth the trouble. She'd brought him into this world intending to take care of him and then just left him because it wasn't as glamorous as she thought it would be.

He wasn't like that. He wasn't like that at all, was he?)

When Taejoon finally noticed him staring at them, he shifted to sit on the edge of his seat, as if he was going to offer Hyunjin to him again. Octavio spoke before he could ask.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not holding the fucking baby.”

Taejoon stared at him. “Octavio.”

“I’m _not_.” 

"Why won't you?"

"I can't."

He noticed the way the other man’s jaw clenched, averting his gaze to the ground, before nodding silently, not arguing any further. He didn’t know why Taejoon was trying so hard to get him to hold Hyunjin. He already knew how he felt about the baby. That wasn’t going to change.

Alecto gave him another check-up, said he was good to go, and then handed him some pads. They told him that basically, a lot of gross stuff was gonna leak out of him in the next few weeks, and he was gonna need them. Fantastic.

The checking-out process was long and tedious and full of words he wasn’t even paying attention to. Blah blah, vaccination schedule, blah blah, postpartum appointments, blah blah. Yeah, whatever. Octavio was never going to the doctor’s or a hospital again after this.

He swore that the kid was staring at him, even though he should be too young to focus or whatever. Something to that effect. Babies couldn't see very well, right? So why was this one looking at him like that?

He eventually signed Hyunjin’s birth certificate with the same messy scrawl he’d done for Taejoon’s AOP; since his boyfriend had shown it to the hospital, both of their names were on it. Well, Taejoon’s fake name, anyway. 

Walking out of the hospital, the shining morning sun made Octavio squint at the sudden brightness of everything, a little overwhelmed by it all right now. Stepping out of the hospital and into the street felt like traveling across two different dimensions. The people bustling around him, the light in his eyes, the pain in his body—he wasn't prepared for it, and he especially wasn't prepared for the infant beside him.

Octavio had never mentally prepared himself for like. _T_ _his._ Had always been focusing on he and Taejoon’s relationship, _that_ aspect of the whole thing, and currently found himself completely unready to even look at the kid or else he would faint. 

Everything was _too_ _much_ right now. Their new house, he and Taejoon’s strained relationship, the want for caffeine and stim that had been placed on a backburner but never went away, and now Hyunjin.

His father was going to find out sooner rather than later. He’d been on break from streaming for months. How long until his fans started investigating as to why? How long until the whole world found out too?

He was going to be sick. It was all getting to him, this overwhelming feeling, and when Taejoon looked over at him and asked if he wanted breakfast he took a step away from the other, sure he was about to throw up now.

He wanted to get away from here. Far, far away from Hyunjin and his boyfriend.

“I’m leaving,” Octavio said, voice scratchy, barely louder than a whisper. Taejoon stared at him, before his brows drew together and he demanded,

“What do you mean, _I’m leaving?_ ”

“I can’t do this,” Octavio said, and man he probably sounded like a huge fucking pussy right now but it was the god honest truth and if he had to think about it for another second he was like actually going to vomit onto the sidewalk. “I’m leaving.”

Taejoon grabbed his wrist then, his other hand holding tightly onto the stupid little infant carrier that Hyunjin was swaddled in, and why the fuck was the kid still _staring at him_ like that?

“You can’t just _run away._ This isn’t something you can run away from."

Octavio ripped his wrist out from his grip, pulling his phone from his pocket as he went to text Anita _, call me if you need anything, call me if it’s an emergency..._

“Octavio!” Taejoon shouted after him, earning the attention of passerby as Octavio turned his back on him, nauseous. Why did he feel like this? What the fuck was happening to him?

Taejoon had caught up to him. Well, ‘ _caught up’_ —Octavio had barely walked ten feet away from him, movements sluggish in a way typically foreign to him.

“You can’t just let me do all of this,” the other man said forcefully, though his voice cracked and it kind of sounded like he was on the verge of tears, but Octavio wasn’t looking at him. He couldn't. “ _Fuck_ , Octavio, come _home_ and we can talk, don’t just run away.”

“You can’t make me do this.” Octavio’s heart was thumping fast in his chest, so fast he could feel it in his temples. “I’m not doing this.”

“Octavio—”

“I’m going to Anita’s.”

“I thought you did this for me.” Taejoon switched tactics, and Octavio’s eyes slid shut as his phone buzzed with a response from Anita. “Why would you do this all for me and then just leave?"

"Taejoon—"

"Come home with me.”

"I can't," he said, a repeat of earlier, before finally glancing back towards his boyfriend to see that he really was on the verge of tears. An expression he'd only seen once or twice before.

_Fuck._

Octavio stumbled into the alleyway they had paused in front of and threw up on the concrete. Not a whole lot, since his stomach was basically empty, but because of that fact his throat burned with bile. He wiped at his mouth with the back of a shaky hand, and fucking Christ Hyunjin was crying again, he hated the noise so much, he hated when babies cried because he never knew what was _wrong_ and it was annoying but it also made him feel bad because he didn’t _know_ how to fix it because he could not fucking handle kids. He couldn’t. Not even his _own_.

Yeah. Hyunjin was his. He’d signed the birth certificate. Had the fucker inside him for nine months. Pushed him out. Hyunjin was _his_ but it didn’t feel like it, and he didn’t _want_ to deal with either his boyfriend or the kid. He just wanted a minute, an hour, a day or a week to forget that he was now responsible for so fucking much. _Hyunjin_. The new house. And the consequences of his own actions.

“Go away,” Octavio managed to get out, sliding down into a crouching position that kind of fucking hurt with the way his body was right now, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to make himself feel as small as possible.

He was sure that Taejoon, with all his stubbornness, would stay and try to convince Octavio to come back home with him. Was sure that a hand would be placed on his shoulder and he would be forcefully steered down the sidewalk, but that didn't happen.

Maybe his boyfriend had decided that standing in a vomit-filled alleyway with an infant was unsanitary, or maybe he realized that Octavio wasn’t worth all the fucking trouble in the world, because eventually the kid’s cries faded away and he was left alone.

His phone buzzed with a call from Anita now, probably wondering what the hell he was doing, why he had texted, but he didn’t answer her. Even though he’d been the one to message her, he didn’t want to deal with her at the moment.

Octavio just wanted to be left alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so. yeah. that's the end of this fic. 
> 
> kind of kicked my ass while writing it and i rewrote this entire chapter once, and then several parts of it multiple times. the original draft of this chapter was much, much worse. you think this is bad? the final version is baby compared to the og draft. it was super triggering for a lot of reasons so i scrapped it. things i wasn't entirely comfortable writing and things that would make many people also very uncomfortable
> 
> you may notice the tag 'ambiguous ending' and also the fact that this work is part of a series. i plan to do a one-shot maybe, once i get my shit sorted. preparing for high school graduation and all that, and also i need to update my other fics. four oh three readers imsosorry
> 
> but yeah this fic's ending is 'ambiguous' because you can choose to end this story here by not reading the follow-up one-shot i plan to post that wraps up stuff. maybe some people want a happy ending and maybe some people think this is the more realistic route. it's up to you how you want this fic to end by just leaving the story finished here or reading the one-shot when i eventually post it. which might not be any time soon depending on how my school stuff goes LOL
> 
> thank you everyone for sticking w me throughout this fic! really rough to write and i was honestly scared of writing it at some points becuz some people were particularly nasty towards the idea of trans men having kids. if u are not a trans man/transmasc u do not get to have beef with me about trans men having kids. go crawl in a hole
> 
> thanks for reading to the end :) ily all!!


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